Ôstarâ dawns, her yellow shift
chased by sunny rabbits and
the reed-woven basket she handles
nestling a pair of stork's eggs.
She'll chuckle as she skips by
Wotan well into his nine-days
sacrificially dangling, the wound
weeping brown to white in his side.
2 comments:
Brilliant.
Thanks Brenda. I may still tinker with it a little... but I'm not sure. First I have to work on the latest wordle. Thanks so much for using my poem for it.
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