Never bare branches, || ever needle bound.
Against the winter winds || ward travelers.
In searing summer || dappled shadows cast.
Wayfarers will pause || whenever they pass.

Loam, dimlit and quiet || light-trodden by beasts;
Her guarded groves || grave rows of red pines.
Silent solitude here || in her sylvan home.
Hail her: Laufey, Nál. || Hail Loki’s mother.

9 months ago  /  10 notes