fragment 61
by kvennarad
You curl round me like a fern,
like a fern round my heart, close
and green, tight round my old heart…
the fern, the green hand-amongst-hands of the mountainside above, and of the chuckling, secretive dens below the sheep-wanders; how tight you clutch in the wait of winter, the weight of winter beneath the snow, how you curl around my slowing heart…
Kvenna ráð 
churl green fern.
churl on.
lovely
I love this one. I grew up around ferns and I loved how they uncurled as summer progressed.
beautiful language all but this line really struck:
“…of the chuckling, secretive dens below the sheep-wanders;”