A brook's baseline

Vigga the Voelva sat 

where she mused

mostly during her life

near the little brilliant brook

She wondered once more

why life took these turns

she had a sensual dream

took her breath away

so vivid  the intercourse

with this somewhat vaguely

familiar nameless swain

awoke her senses - 

a rare titillation that 

did not leave her 

the whole day - odd

when she now was trying

to at calm her inwards

as she peeked up upon

the free floating clouds

she sought to remain

calm - impossible

something was urging her

to go ahead and fulfill

her yearnings - a futile wish

but still it was showing her

that she was alive - screaming

A woman's lot was not

what she had bargained for

when she was a young chick

at that time it was just

an ordinary bourgeois life

but because she was born

with a different view

she had to change into

an old crone who walked

around listening to people

and their stories sometimes

affected her so deeply

that she had to vomit their fates

out and spill the beans

into her writings of yesteryear

on occasion she was a shaker

and had wonderful memories

but lately dissatisfaction

delved into her inner mind

wondering vicariously

she was no longer herself

that was sure - scary - 

again at a albeit lesser crosswalk

yet the dream of sexual satisfaction

stirred her loins so deep 

of distant reminiscence

and yet so present so real

that for days she pondered why

not since Shmuel had she had

such fleshy feelings -

was it even possible at her age

to get the abandonment of youth

to repeat that urging longing 

of meeting another person's frame

and embrace the delights of earth

fire - flames even - to become

embers and lie in embrace

for the rare reverie of sensing

her own body against another

out of the blue - gave her hope

of the brush of a time to come

never to give up - just live

a lot and a little -  the waves

of the waters ran as it should

tingling against the embankments

- if you could say that - 

a brook's little digging 

the grass and the stones 

nature' command of passing 

the time taking care of life.

The voelva Vigga moved

and wiggled her toes in 

the wetness of the stream.