mostly drained of color,
I had to check the settings
on my smart phone.
Rock and sky and sea,
it’s as grayscale as a man in 1880
with a wooden camera mounted
on a tripod. Black-trim, gray walls.
The only color from a funeral
supply store with a yellow casket
in the shop window on main street.
Violets and Arctic daisies hangin’ on.
The hiss of studded winter tires
on black-white-gray cars and SUVs
on rain darkened streets.
Sharp-toothed sleet that tries
to reach down the back of your neck
and up your sleeves.
If the wind allows, busses
can go to the far northern cape
of the continent. Not today.
Instead, we walk through
the town below the mountain.
With a museum, a hotel, a few
shops, and a pizza joint.
And a black-steepled church
with a view of the mountain
and the harbor. Only open
on Sunday, but we’ll be gone.
The wind scoured the clouds
that night and we witnessed
our shaky first manifestation
of the Aurora Borealis.
Smart phones and cameras
see the colors much better
than our human eyes which might
mistake the Aurora for clouds.
The ship rose and fell
gently through the night
as we rounded the Nord Kapp
and docked in Kirkenes
where a hundred thousand
German troops occupied the town
and region during World War II
and consequently were bombed
hundreds of times by the Russians.
When the German Army retreated
they burned what was left, all but
thirteen houses were destroyed.
We walked into the bomb shelter
tunnel where some of the people
kept safe. On the surface above
a bronze statue of a Red Army soldier
holding a rifle stands atop a pedestal.
On the street adjacent, a van painted
like the Ukrainian flag has the words
Stop War, Stop Putin on its sides.
The border is just a few minutes east.
Nobody crosses to buy cheap
Russian diesel now and nobody
comes the other way for the shops.
Our bus stops a few yards from
the restricted zone at the border
to take photos or buy a matryoshka doll
a hat, or ice cream at a souvenir shack.
His Alaskan Malamute barks for treats
which are available in a bucket
conveniently placed just beyond
the reach of the eager dog’s chain.
We return to the ship in Kirkenes
and the long voyage back to Bergen
begins stopping once more
at thirty four ports, large and small.
We take the elevator up to the bar
on the seventh deck for a view and
a drink. The Northern Lights this night
are the most spectacular green of all.
