After a few busy weeks, I got a day to do my favorite things: rock, ready, write (and nap). A true day of rest. This poem came from a mix of my reading about the Northern World between 800 and 1100 AD, eating chocolate and drinking fresh picked wild Bergamot tea in my rocking chair surround by the forest. Heaven. Enjoy the funky poem.
Day of All Days
I have drunk from Odin’s mead of poetry,
Mead of Suttungr,
words birthing from my fingers
threaded through my heart
fed by the source Yggdrasil.
These words on this day,
a day of all days.
Surrounded by trees
best friend to gods and man alike.
Feeling the same breeze,
the same sweet smell of summer
as the ancestors
on this day in circular time
marked only by words shared and tasted.
Hear me beloveds
warriors, wives, tenders of land and lambs
this is the day to feast and emanate joy
for this is the day of all days
the last and the first.
