Flying Snow : Riven's Poem

Flying Snow: Riven's Poem

Flying snow sporen smother

wind whines over wasted fields

rabbit's burrow buried in white

whiteheel's scent scattered on air.

I howl for hunger on this weary hunt —

cold sears through seru sides,

ice cuts cruelly in pads.

Nose to the tempest's tearing teeth

blood prints path of pain.

Thus go I, a grey shadow,

slowly faring frozen fields

mind wandering to warmer days —

sunbeams dancing on early dew,

spinner's home heavily hung

with glistening globules,

game in the fields.

Then I would hunt hart on the hide...

– Ælfstangard