It was just one of those nights. The still but cold spring evening. Bird song that filled the air. So silent that you can hear the buds pop and the grass grow. Sun kissing the tree tops in a gentle caution to the coming night cold. Stillness, just stillness.
Cherish the moment, ha de Gött!
Rise up and shine
Show off your might
Prance in the mirror
Hang on for the spinn
The spinn of time
Just wasting time, ha de Gött!
Sometimes it is just still, even if you’re not sure what is up or down.
The island Killingen in Sannäsfjorden a sunny day in March. Ripples on the surface caused by me sitting on the floating bridge.
Blue can be fantastic, ha de Gött!
Jokes and puns, they had
Rock hard punch line
Debate words, delivered with
Rock hard punch line
Leg it, outrun the long
Rock hard punch line
Lover, not a fighter, ha de Gött!
Thought I wouldn’t put up a blog today
Didn’t really have anything to say
It would be silent as a log
Today on my little blog
But words kept poppin’ out, okay
So here it is anyway
Just do it, ha de Gött!
We can fly high in the sky, all the way to the moon.
Yet we are sinking, way deep into the mud.
Be a lifeboat, ha de Gött!
The navigation mark ‘Ulsholms Kalv’ in sunset. After a day with an absolutely clear sky these dramatic clouds appeared.
Sun in place like a whole note on the staff . Birds sing out the last tune of the evening. All is lined up for the evening drama.
(I hope I got the music terms correct. Whole note is according to Wikipedia, American English and the British English term is semibreve.)
Stay in line, ha de Gött!
Fast flowing water splashing down the steep.
For a moment, by night frost stilled.
By the suns warming rays, join the joy ride to the sea.
All that matter, solid, liquid and gas, ha de Gött!
Brass, straight lines, motion in perfect symmetry
Capital of violence
Cohesive, chest ornaments, balcony of small men
Capital of violence
Fear, drumming boots, waving of enabling masses
Capital of violence
Heroes, historic claims, brothers in arms
Capital of violence
King, leader of choice, our way of life
Capital of violence
Portrait, son and daughter, tears of a mother
Capital of violence
Flags, coffins draped, flapping in the wind
Capital of violence
My heart goes out to all mothers seeing their sons and daughters coming back in a black bag.
Kicked around, goal, netted, offside.
Laughter, cries, joy, celebration.
Desire of twenty-two, referee, cheering crowd.
Trimmed lawn, sidelines, corner shot.
Still, locked in, forgotten, rotten.
Round the ball is, ha de Gött!
UlleHaddock 