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~ By Courtesy of Others ~


Weapons swelled the wound-tide full;
That sea of blood now soaks the earth,
And ravens feast on flotsam red
The wrack and wreckage of men.

Fading sight with shadow fills;
A grey horse glides through twilight´s gate:
The age-old drumbeat of eight-fold hoofsteps
Echoes around the strand.

In Wodan´s hall the wolves grow restive-
They prowl, and pace, and prick their ears-
The horns are filled, the feast is laid-
Still they watch and wait-

´Til a flash of grey in the fields is glimpsed,
And a stallion´s whinney rattles the walls,
and eight-fold hoofsteps, hastening onward,
Carry the hero home.

© Ann Groa Sheffield      


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