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November Song to Odin
I know one; he makes the winds to blow.
He breathes, and all is awe.
He has watched the leaves fall,
Fall from the tree, fallen autumn husks
Rotting. Then rises fruit.
I hear him singing, hanging.
Pierced through, humming.
I know one; he makes the mind furious.
Out of wits, question marks spray everywhere.
Puzzles, riddles stream forth
From hoar-bearded lips similing grim puns,
Dark enigmas.
I know one; he wears a blue coat.
Greyish when fog blows in, he wanders.
A maverick seeking clues
In unlikely scratches, he´s hot on the trail
No one fathoms.
I know one; he hangs and sways in silence.
Singing, "Death is Life is Death is
Life is Death
Is Life."
I´m not sure what he means.
Perhaps I will someday.
I know one; when he comes in, minds are blown.
To smithereens, and then he says
"Pick up the pieces!"
Puzzlebound, the fragments jigsaw and spell out
Galaxies and worlds beyond fathom.
I think I love this one unknown,
Unknowably calling me out beyond the hedge
To wild-world wanderings.
© Copyright 2005 by Siegfried Goodfellow
His Blog: "Heathen Ranter"
Image: Sketch of Saruman, © John Howe 2002, His Art at www.john-howe.com