I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know;
—and the last to let go.
.
30 years may pass and I’ll still remember;
—I try to pay attention.
.
When the wind caught your hair;
my frozen mustache;
all the soft whisperers over every mountian pass.
.
I can’t find the words but that’s okay:
I’ll keep searching;
.
in small places,
the sky,
I’ll keep looking;
I’ll find a way.

East Iceland, Summer, 2021