Norwegian Grass Rooftops

I was looking at pictures of Norwegian grass rooftops

When you told me

“I just want more than this.”

I was staring intently at my laptop display

At these hobbit cottages

Pregnant with pastoral simplicity

Trying not to betray distraction as

You were sobbing down the line

And the phone felt heavy in my hand so it fell,

                         reflected up

At my eyes

Staring off into a Norwegian wonderland and I tried to hold my breathing

Steady, thinking

“I wonder if we would have travelled there.”

You say sorry so many times I find myself apologizing

Telling you, “It’s ok, it doesn’t hurt

                                                                       THAT

                                                                                               bad.”

Twisting a little deeper

I feel small, insignificant, a lost blade of grass on a Norwegian rooftop looking outward

As a frosty winter seeks

To sap our sodden ceilings of their rusting autumn glow

One of the rooftops had several trees atop and

I wondered where the roots would grow

I wondered if I could know who I was anymore

Or who I was going to be now

That you told me that I needed a break

And you told me I wasn’t coping

And I didn’t realize I was leaking

So thank you for making me aware

I suppose

Sometimes a tree knows not where it’s roots grow

Until he’s two foot tall with nowhere to go

So, he sits, little bonsai, waits for the cool Norwegian snow

To settle

To pry his matted tendrils

And make for the sky.