Fjörgyn

I am inspired by conifer forests
fitted around towering mountains.

Immutable forms above a vast green blanket.
Distant, shadowing, clairvoyant.

They whisper to passers by,
sending snowmelt southward.

I am stirred by the rancid flesh of a fallen doe,
worms wriggling through her.

Goats laugh to each other,
sharing secrets about me.

The wind breathes the bock tune,
of a far away bard.

Still I trek, up and up and up,
to see that great canopy from the top.

I am roused, surrounded, prophetic,
to see that great canopy from the top.