The Icelandic Canadian - 01.06.1995, Síða 62

172
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
SPRING / SUMMER 1995
AT RED GORGE
by Jon Helgason
Walking the Mountain Marsh, a guest,
I mark a quivering in my breast:
Here in the grass the mind will meet
many old tracks by little feet.
Angelicas stoutly stretch their tall
stems out over the canyon’s wall,
while all day long in its boggy bed
the blue-red cinquefoil droops its head.
Oft in my youth, what fun I found
in the fragrant slope, in the gorge’s sound;
echoes of falls and flowing streams
feature since then in all my dreams.
Meadow-sweet, how you are mild and clear.
Mine is the pleasure, sister dear,
to find you again in this fleeting way;
fate decrees that I cannot stay.
Beyond Mount Ok is the ocean gray.
A bird from the moors will fly today
southward far over foam and sea;
farther still lies the road for me.
IT HAPPENED ONE EVENING
by Jon Helgason
It happened one evening I heard a knock on the door.
I hearkened a while, snuffing the candle, before
I called out: “Who is it?” The breeze of the evening bore
me back the reply: “It was Life, but it is here no more.”
IN THE MORNING
by Jon Helgason
Prepared to leave, I pause before my gate;
upon the sky the sun reblasts his route.
As welcome gift, I would appreciate
this working day to bear desired fruit.