Death Grin
A poem I wrote whilst walking and researching the Wildfjords trail in summer 2013. Photo by Þorsteinn Másson. Death Grin A sun shelled night save a few nesting terns That bounce on sharp wings that clutch at the sky Then fold their sharp wings and aim for my eye I run to surrender, afraid I might die! They re-group then remember their task to fly I’m welcomed like this, Iceland’s summer has peaked Razorbills, guillemots, puffins replete An orca lies stranded, though grins in defeat The sound of a plover whistling plaintive retreat I too then remember my task