For Bjork.

Everything is born in winter

The ground lays below it

Effortless

Fruitful


Be the water that remembers  

Grab the soft soil

Get tangled up in the branches of the old oak tree

Be the child next to the train window

Waiting for the first snow to fall

Be the white nights

Be the low sun

Shiver


Wait

The clouds will come

The air will warm up
 

Isn't it what they say?