~ By Courtesy of Others ~
But a young sprig am I
Watching the efforts of gods and men
My life is lonely, my visitors few.
Hark, a stranger is climbing my tree !
He is peering at me with a sneer.
With a flick of the knife, I am cut free.
We descend into the forest below.
Never before had I dreamed.
Will I be a rune stave?
Or Will I be the handle of a great mans sword?
I am stripped my twigs, bark and leaves.
My maker and I have come to a hall.
A contest of might
Hammers, axes, spears and swords
My maker bids the sightless brother of light.
I am loose! Through the air I soar.
I have pierced into the darkness of flesh.
Pulled from gore and cast aside.
Evil has fallen upon a little sprig such as me.
Oh, how I wish for wings to flee and hide!
Now cursed and fated for ill fame
Mistletoe: Franz Eugen Köhler, Köhler's Medizinal-Pflanzen, 1897 (detail). Public Domain.