Myvatn
(Fornyrthislag Form)

A deep stand of
trees once grew here-
Untouched last reach
Birthplace of geysirs

Island, home to flocks
Birds of every North
And then the monks
And then the Norse.

And the Frigg-blessed
green gave way
to ships and staves
to fire and furnace.

Millenium
has passed since then
Now seeming it
Was always so,

The blue expanse
of rocky snow
Giant-beaten
Denuded plain.

But Myvatn
lives again
Salix and Spruce
On pristine shores~

O, what a dream
That we return
this island gem
to what it was!

L
***************************


New Mexico Rez

I met a woman once
Her name was Awatche
Her boots were lizard
Oilslicked with pearl.
She kicked stories
From crossroads dust
And made flutes from sparrowbones.

They fascinate, these people bred
Of the rock and twisting dry wind
As though we can't comprehend
Sacred anymore.

It's this terracotta earth
That makes them
Masters of the mesas
Men of adobe.

Her crows feet ran deep as irrigation,
Still-nimble knitters hands
Smooth as sage smoke
That burns prayers to the four winds.

She knew my name when I came.

She cooked me hot sweet tea in her airstream
Where a twist of herbs burned
Under a fleamarket picture of Mary
Full of Grace.

Smiling, she fingered the feathers in her hair.
"The spirits did not leave us"
She said, It's essentially
The same prayer-
The spirit only takes another name."

L

West of Vinland

This would be familiar ocean,
Moisture constantly in motion~
Thor throws his hammer, throws the dice

>From cloud to storm to sea to ice.

And the cold crags are just as steep,
And the dark waters just as deep,
As where the Norsemen used to sleep.

Here is the fjord, here is the gull,
Foam of the wave a ship may scull.
Away you should, to Vinland West
Where green remains in winter's breast.

The leaping fish, the western wine,
The mild winds of the sheltered clime,
I'm sure it's what you meant to find.

Leave behind the eastern shore,
Change the course of western lore,
Arise again in this broad land
Where your descendants have a hand.

Here is Valhalla, paradise
With endless gifts, pearl without price-
Forever mild, yet crowned with ice.

If only it was here you came
The land of towering trees and rain-
What an empire you'd have made
By rule of might, and rule of trade.

Leila
(I have a pet theory that vinland is actually Vancouver Island, prove it I cannot, but every once in a while a corroborating opinion pops up, to my delight.)