In Keflavik Poem by Judith Vriesema

When the fishing boats come in,
the seagulls gather upon slumbering lava
rocks.
- their beaks alomost orange in the light.
The northern wind carries their cries through
the streets of Keflavik
-. winding from door to door,
from rooftop to rooftop....
-from the cliffs to the sky.....
and on and on....to... infinity.
Windows of houses are open to catch the
summer wind
and lace curtains touch beams of sunlight.
Floors are scrubbed with the scent of the sea.
If scent had a colour,
it would be aqua
then
cobalt blue.
If motion had a thought,
it would be an artist's brushstroke across a
blank canvas.
People make their way down steel grey
streets to the fish shoppe with baskets in their
hands.
They wait in anticipation for the sound of the
boats unloading their 'catch'.
and become lost in their own afternoon
thoughts...
I used to stand amongst them and think,
if sound had a colour it would be the blue of
your eyes,
And the music across the bay to reykjavik, to
pingholstraetti street,
would be the colour of light when the sun
turns orange and the clouds grow soft.
-if sound had a colour....................