Tag: rewilding

  • casting runes — 24oct25

    fehu
    fox fire, raven coal
    first flurries pale
    i offer crimson now
    to keep all relations, mine
    both safe and hale

    A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.

    Today’s rune is fehu, which has a core meaning of “cattle” or a more generalized “livestock”, which was a representation of personal wealth or earned prosperity. Sometimes luck played a role. Wealth and prosperity was valued, but was looked down upon when material accumulation appeared to be excessive, greedy, miserly or turned to hoarding, especially when those around you were lacking.

    Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.

  • at the wytching tree

    this chronic river
    flawing through
    is a stoning earned
    for the time cast 
    down drunk at
    the wytching tree

    there is no care
    for these secrets 
    that might be shared
    those left to die here
    in the wee hours down
    at the wytching tree

  • casting runes — 22oct25

    othala
    under the cloak
    the patterns burn
    all the more clear

    slip to the well
    and dive, emerge
    in the lands
    under the sea

    A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.

    Today’s rune is othala, which has a core meaning of “heritage”, “inheritance” and “legacy”. These are all associated with home, kin, ancestors, stability and (in some interpretations) past lives or spiritual legacy.

    Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.

  • on the wind

    "throw your head away
    and let branches replace
    the empty left behind",
    said the acorn man

    so
    we gathered round
    and grew old,
    apple blossoms
    on the wind

  • New Moon

    I will drift the forest behind blind eyes with her, just as she came, here on the new moon this morn. A new year, come ten days on the loom, rides her night tresses too. Time to wrap root and gather low, gather deep, and gather below. Gather, then, and keen no more.

    If you knew me, you would understand — but I stand alone, unknown. I am wing and I am thorn, that is the best I can explain.

    But when she comes, we gather: wrapping root and pricking low.