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Hod's Season

Glass swords hang thickly
on the roof-top, gleaming.
Hod's breath is heavy but
I keep my gaze skyward.

Such precious hours:
Skoll can barely chase
The sun above white horizon
Sea-ice roams the coast.

But women must milk the cows
and make butter
and I hunt the winter stag
or plough the freezing sea.

Only few can follow
the Halogian ship
when bound with sinews
it flies with the wind.

I must be swift by sun
the Northern night is long
As long as history
That spins twixt Skaldic lips.

The night is hard as black ice
studded with snow
It rides hard on the heel
of day, wolflike.

I hold a peice of ice to the sun
like a quartz talisman
As it slips below the horizon
winter's swift light is golden.

Hod's Season

The Amber Gatherer