Sunday, January 30, 2005


On the black beach of Dyrholaey,
a cairn of stones.

Thick clouds linger on Vatnajökull,
swelling the glaciers.

From crevices in the basalt cliffs,
puffins fly out to fish.

A turf house is smothered in green,
its door open.

The pale light of the midnight sun
hides behind Mÿrdal.

This was written in the summer of 2004, part of our memories of Iceland, a land we wish to visit again one day. There is much to see there, much to take your breath away, a land of rugged yet relaxing beauty. The word "vik" means "inlet", a piece of land between two promontories. It is where the word "viking" comes from.

1 comment:

laryalee said...

What spectacular scenery, Ella...
it sounds so cold and vast...
wonderful descriptions!