Fuglafjørður
I
This curved town
exhales fishy breath
gusted in tons
from berthed trawlers
gashing the quay
the north hauled to land
groceries shopped into cars
with studded tyres grinding
their knuckles home
lit by Christmas lights
rigging a netted constellation
from boat to house
II
When did the slowness
of this afternoon
merge with the chugging
boat engine in the harbour?
Metallic hammering and
calls of feeding gulls
chime out spells of work.
An elderly man in
peaked cap throws
a plastic hoop
up the bank towards
the school
where no children
are playing.
The town held still
between lowering cloud
and rippling fjord.
we have
all the time
we need
all the time
we have
Daniel Rye is a poet and musician living in the Faroe Islands. His writing reflects the experience of living in a country where you are never more than 5 kilometres away from the sea.