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~ By Courtesy of Others ~

My Storm
Thunor invoking Loki

The storm clouds gather
as the sun goes down.
Ever increasing dankness
drives away the last red glow.
The winds begin to rise;
the swaying trees and bushes
let lose their falling leaves.
In the distance
a flash is seen
and soon the distant thunder heard.
Watching the show begin
I feel the first rain drops
blow upon my face and hands.
smiling I turn away.
Until the storm next time,
I lay down my hammer.
Come, brother Loki, come!

Jim Davis

Published in: "Drunk on the Mead of Inspiration", March 1997.
Author of "
Basic Anglo-Saxon Paganism".

Image: JoEl Tagle.

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