The Volva's venting

her winter boots helped Vigga the Volva
as she was treading through the tedious snow
it was now an old hat that winter
hammered heavily every two days piling up
gray and grayer the whiteness became
along the roads - melting came slowly
when the sun definitely decided
to appear again on the open skies
shortly to dismount and leave for
rain and rain and clairvoyant clouds
she mused to herself which lately
had become a solace - her own voice
she felt alone in the vast void
although it was her own doing
she had no true energy this time around
her cavalier of her summer in the north
of whom she had vivid sensual dreams
did not make her morning peregrination
any happier or easier, just heavier..
and the blasted simulated whiteness
bothered her - she was longing
for love in all the usual places
not her daughter's filial love
but a sexual deeply satisfying lust
spread in her body defying the cold air
surrounding her, prompting her to walk
to her favourite spot in the woods
where she leaned against
a tree, (was it Ygdrasil as usual?),
staring wildly, blindly around her -
even daring to fantasize of the eunuch...
she was in a frenzy - not sensing anything,
but her own body inside her heavy winter cape,
hotly she reached down inside her gown
- her deft fingers finding the flower -
with her free hand fondling the nipple
one after the other, feeling not the cold
only the summer heat of her own yielding
building up the movement of her fingers
on her Venus mount - rubbing - until
the ecstasy and well-deserved release

she walked on down to the stream
washing her hands and splashing ice-cold water
on her hot and feverish face - she bent down
and thanked the goddess for at least
being able to satisfy her needs -
as natural as all other bodily functions
even though she was alone in her woods