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A Jul Poem
Flames flicker and force the freeze outdoors,
keeping the wolves of the wilds away.
And the Wild Hunt haunts the hallowed sky,
as the ancestors ascend the astral abyss.
Porridge sits pipinŽ hot in the pot a-plenty.
There better be butter bouncing on top!
Or the nasty nickens may nip at their knickers
scheming plenty of pranks in play.
As the hearth heats the happy home,
the tomten tumble in the twilight
bringing bairns a bountiful Julbock
with whimsical wonders and winter gifts.
The Jul tree glows with a glittering gladness,
as the children charge chockfull and cheer!
A "Good Jul!" to you all, glad hosts and guests!
May our bountiful gods and goddesses bless!
© Mike Smith