poem by Latvian poet Ingmara Balode

for Leva, in Tuja village


Now the hornbeams throw flames in my face.
Shadows.
No boats go fishing today.

Sit.
A storm is gathering at the horizon.
You're stringing bunches and beads
of rowan - and chokeberries
warm your hands.

I could tell you
"the summer is over"
but that's what
you know.


Ingmara Balode
Latvia