cloudy and dark,
from time to time a scary shadow,
but it is only one of the pine trees, or a rock
the sound of water dripping
jumping over stones
the feeling of trusting your feet, your toes
and in the distance the wind,
or is it the boom of civilization further away?
the lights of some houses and farms here and there
reflecting on the fiord, and if i was momo,
i could hear the stars singing now.
(i don’t think it matters that it is cloudy.)
i reach the playgroud and the swings,
old black wheels filled with water, too low
but i just have to empty them and sit back,
so that my feet don’t touch the ground,
and move a bit, to start swinging.
and i swing after so much time
i forget why i came here
and instead of thinking, i just watch my feet going up, up, up…
i can see the tree behind me if i let my head fall.
the way back is faster
my hands get warm again
and the streetlights are almost too bright.
finally, my house and my room.
but before that, the same silhouette, alone,
working in front of a blue white computer screen
when i peek through the window on my way home.