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Autumnīs Bliss tumbles to the ground,
leaf of Red,
and gliding a graceful dance
Acornsī ripe prize, the golden fruit
feeds the land as it feeds the boar
Boarīs final sigh as the spear finds home,
We shall feast on his sweet flesh.
Rain from above with Thorīs sweet kiss
Drips from skeletal boughs
Drops into rivulets, rivulets to rivers, rivers to the ocean roar.
Hammer song cleanses the air.
A kiss of winter fills the nights air,
The teasing our cheeks with its cold breath.
The fire warms our hearts as
The Ice is kept at bay a little longer.
The folk sing strong and proud
Of Summerīs adventures and heatīs demise
Let us gather tonight in frith and faith
The Harvest is in, and Winter draws nigh.
Đ Dana Runkle
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