Norwegian Royalty

A storm of butterflies lost above the Norwegian coastline,
snowcapped peaks and fertile lowland valleys shadowed
by billowing black eyed hurricane, swarms of orange over
hidden inlets and rivers running to the sea

To follow the path of the storm’s destruction
would take years on foot. Tourists will gaze
upon the Viking’s proof of his gods, until
attention flits away, dancing upon the sea
breeze. And they will go back to the cities
with photos of impossible tigerskins encased in ice .

Winters edge approaches and the fjords freeze over
snakes of ice and rivers of crystal run through
A patterned white and brown, patchwork
landscape of forest, and field. All snow-covered
snow cone mountains peek through the clouds.
storm’s legacy is twisted, complicated,
unplottable gnarly lines on a map.
that do no justice to true
fractal beauty

migration patterned wings paint hurricanes
chaotic static chromatic attraction reaction
a thousand wanderers flit above the fjords
waiting for the storm to form

the colorful crowd echoes the cumulus
swirling around above, creative chaos
called the storm, whirlwind sown by hand
the tempest is a blanket of wind and rain
settling over the shore, hugging the curves
clouds fit the coastline closely, matching the
flight of the final migration. the first and last
blown off course, squall spawned swarm
summons Nordic monsoon under new moon

a thousand tiger typhoon conjurers flap
flutter, flicker, fan frantic fragile heart
lighting flashes fast and furious Norse anger
Odin’s rage invoked by delicate insects
Thor’s thunder rumbles under cloud cover
Loki’s joy at the lost of Lepidoptera, bright
chaos and sharp chance. Cutting the coastline,
lashing the shore with the pain of the sky

black and grey clouds laced with light billow
willows bend in the face of gale force ferocity
clouds of orange and black wings reap the whirl

the storm rages and ravages the insensate land
stark scape shows no hurt, but the spray strips
the softness from the green. leaving only scree
and bones in its wake. the weather is wicked
fall storms bring hail and sleet, cull the sick
flay the fat from the land, cutting teeth
leaving only that which can stand
felling the weak

and they fall from the sky like snowflakes
a month too soon. casualties of their own
mistimed monsoon. polychromatic
glittering confetti fatalities
carpet the ground as the first frost steals
over the land like a silent lover, silent killer
sealing intricate patterns beneath a layer of ice
cover the land with a blanket
a clear quilt over chaos