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Tuesday, January 02, 2018
Norn
Swans from swain broods emerge to the Norns
who thread twine, riverine, alluvial born;
fates tend to puddle, well-tree over-ridden;
the Norns sort us out, trophy in the midden
a root runs true or turns false no less,
carries our water, the ash of success
the limbs roost above our imperiled crowns
widow-maker swooping, silently browned
no fish two-swan stalking, mirror calm lake,
no leaf left untasted, the hart there to take
no dirt clod molested, the serpent true hiss
there in Norn's weaving wand's illustriousness
noblest of trees, tried on all sides
ribs back, arm branch, heart soul& mind
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