It was the polite thing to do

You asked me why the woman we saw simply stood there at the water’s Edge.
The short answer is that she was being polite.
I hail from a land of deep valleys and high mountains,
A land covered in vast expanses of green:
The green that turns into the billowing gold of wheat dancing in the wind.
The deep green of forests so large they easily hide large creatures.
It is a land where the cold chill of winter rarely leaves,
Where the sun doesn’t set, and doesn’t rise,
It is a place where light dances in the northern skies.
It is a cruel kind if beauty,
Indifference is the true measure of her cruelty.
We call her Scandinavia.
It is a place of old creatures,
What say do humans have…
In a place ruled by everything from The tiny Grey-folk,
To lumbering Trolls and dancing Disir.
Who knows if what we see in the mist,
Is really there?
Do you see now, how her act of stillness was polite?
She gave us time, time to decide,
If what our eyes saw was real.
If she was real,
Or just another of Freyja’s daughters,
Dancing off into the mist.


About Fredrik Kayser

Everything is connected.
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2 Responses to It was the polite thing to do

  1. Fredrik Kayser says:

    Thank you, Clinton! :) glad you liked it.

  2. Nice. i like how you relate it with nature. Brilliant writing :)

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