I'm not the greatest poet, but this scene seems to demand it.

Between the peaks where cold winds sleep
The green moss softens stones of grey,
And quiet lays its gentle hand
Upon the valley's rugged way.

And I, who came with restless feet,
Am stilled as all the land is still,
And learn from mountains, moss, and stone
The patience of the hills.

Fjarðardalur leading to Mjóifjörður in the Eastfjords of Iceland.

#SilentSunday #StillerSonntag #Stunday #Iceland #Photography