Máret In The Winter Night Poem by Espen Øye Bjørkvold

In a deer skin lavvo tent,
on the snowy firmament.
In the coldest winter night,
night is black, show is white.

Frosty winds and icy air,
icicles in Máret’s hair.
Walking towards the lavvo’s heat,
feeling her own heart beat.

The snow is deep and cold, she feels;
some snow have reached her heels.
It is too cold to barely breath,
now the cold has reached her feet.

Wading through the deepest snow,
reaching from her knees to toe.
Opening the lavvo door,
not is she cold,
Anymore.