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~ By Courtesy of Others ~
Winter's Moot
Long the hours of our drinking
and our feasting in the west lands
Sun bright afternoon long fading
into memories of gladness
Evening stars now shine above us
where the high winds blow the cloud wrack
Hands are shaken at our parting
‘ere our journeys cross the mountains
Kisses to the fairest women
‘ere we meet again in springtide
Travellers fare east and west now
each towards their hearth fire blazing
Bitter is the north gale blowing
whipping hair into our faces
Bent before its teeth of ice now
like the barren trees beside us
Onwards to our valley steading
where the where the dogs bark at our coming
Waits she there with arms of greeting
in her hair the smell of woodsmoke
In her eyes the darkness longing
in her breast a warm heart beating
To our bed of furs she draws me
‘neath the hills where wolves are howling
© Alan Hodgson
Image: "Birches in Snow", credits: NOAA, public domain