Vigga the Voelva trod wearily
along the path of well-known plodding
she mumbled to her listeners
the deers of the woodsy lands
the sun stroke her autumn auburn steaks
to the brook she took her well-worn clogs
clinging to her tired and throbbing feet
she was in no mood for thinking
for she was mad as the mime of yesteryear.
Only the cooling nature could calm her
even though her little part of woodlands
was only a speck - a spot of dirt
filled with trees and bushes and scrubs;
does and hinds met her seeking eyes
not afraid for theirs were these woods
only outside was daring danger.
Nature is what nature always was
stronger than anything else
the dark matter imploding stars
a sign of bleak blackness to remind
humankind of one haunting thing -
Vigga willed herself to walk slowly
aptly apparently calming down
her inner voelva alert anima
inhaled the dark musky spirit
realizing slowly that after autumn
comes wintry winds and wants
but all of this is final and futile
only the daunting dawning day
matters completely and only
the present - persnickety or not -
would be weighty and valid
and if she were wasted tomorrow
today would be all she ever had.
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