The Finns

The Finns take off their shoes, even before the doorstep.

They leave a wallet to guard a seat.

They will stand at the  crossing, waiting for a green light

at five o'clock on a Cristmas morning.

They have learned in recent years to eat croissants

but will make do with chopped turnip if that's all there is.

The Finns are masters of caution.

Belt fastened, helmet on, hat pulled over the ears,

reflective vest, safety gloves, steel toecaps,

boss's permission, ID card, first aid training.

Only then should you showel snow!

Still - the fourth most common cause of death is accident,

most often by falling.

How embarrassing!

If the fall doesn't kill you,

you might die of shame.

 Heli Laaksonen/The Nature of Finnish Nature

When in these golden hours

The day dawns honey-bright

And down we stroll the misty paths

Slow ripening in the light

Of second flush, of sodden roses,

Of dewy maple leaves,

We pluck the meadow of autumn lilies

And berries from the trees.

We sit in the wonder of too-soft days,

Listening for summer's parting sighs,

And drink in the sweetness

of the new-mown morning

And lie under whippoorwill skies.

 Deborah A. Bennett

Some Glad Morning

One day, something very old

happened again. The green

came back to the branches,

settling like leafy birds

on the highest twigs;

the ground broke open

as dark as coffee beans.

The clouds took up their

positions in the deep stadium

of the sky, gloving the

bright orb of the sun

before they pitched it

over the horizon.

It was as good as ever:

the air was filled

with the scent of lilacs

and cherry blossoms

sounded their long

whistle down the track

It was some glad morning.

Joyce Sutphen