"Threshold Days"
Mark well this moment
in the barrow and the hollow hill.
After harvest, before everything dies
for a while, the shadowskin that separates
your world from others, is stretched thin.
The reaper, the thatcher and the blacksmith
proceed to otherworks. Magic is strong
at this time. Spirits come close.
Links and burning rushes light up the alleys
between houses. The horn lamp helps you
find the path, it does not safeguide your step.
This is a friendsome neighbourhood, not like
other places, where your fellows may sell you
down the river. Who is your next of kin?
The country lets you dream, but wakefully,
of shrines and starsong. The birds of gods
take off from your roof, return to their own.
Wheels keep turning. Loosen everything
you once bolted down. You will be blessed
for seven harvests and seven winters.
Then you shall choose a road
you never thought you knew.
© 2008 Jane Røken
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