Born beneath Skagerak skies am I,
Surrounded by the three seas of the bitter North,
The North Sea, Kattegat, and Skagerak.
It’s white and windy out,
as Candle Mass ties its knots and locks
white below – white above.
Powdered thick stands trees in woodlands,
dampening every sound
but the eerie howling winds of North.
Seeking shelter we do, until the change of winds
Enter with the promise of soil softening,
come Lady Spring.
Birds see the light, draw near the windows,
tapping on them, but even so,
flees any invitations – the frozen bread tempts them more.
No one sings – only the Finch sways on her branch.
The Raven screams its desolate noise,
Owls howl in hope of shelter and prey.
The Crows strut around
On barn tops
as if in mockery of warmer weather,
Planning the next murder
of an exhausted prey.
Rooster jumps to a low bare branch
His wings he gathers as with a clap,
Curves his neck and crows,
Might he know that thaw is underway.
Come, southwest and conquer this land again.
Come, with your foggy promise.
Come and loosen the knotted ground.
Come and loosen the knotted minds,
Open the gates for men and beast.
To bleak even for the sons and daughters
Of mighty Thor and Odin,
Nomad souls, born of this land
Some went South.
As did a Blueberry boy
such as I
Who played among their mortal remains
©2021 Soren Dreier – Services
Note: Skagerak, Nordic Spelling