I sit with Freyja Golden-Tears on top of a barrow mound
pour barley beer and hops of spring in honor of Ingvi,
Freyr blossoms like a snowdrop, white, resplendent,
and we talk long of summer days and strawberry wine.
Thor walks out from the raspberry brambles, lips bitter
with the taste of early fruits, he delights in the sun,
god of thunder ruddy bearded with his April rain.
Odin carries Gungnir Ever-true and parts lush ivy,
a storm brews, the Fin troll tramples the sea, I take
Thor’s hammer and turn troll to stone at dawn,
he a cathedral pillar, giant who would usurp Asgard.