An Unplanned Siesta

Again, I find myself

Standing at a crossroads,

Pondering directions.

Unsure which path to take.

Should I? Could I? Perhaps?

~

The sun is overhead.

At the roadside, flowers.

Birdsong lilts from afar.

Wheat heads rustle nearer.

~

It’s been a long journey,

Full of rush and bother,

That led me to this place.

~

Beside these thoroughfares

I shall pause, breathe, relax.

~

There’s time for a siesta.

Fighting Fate

If the deck is surely stacked
Against the common man
And Ragnarök approaches,
When even gods will fall,
Does it truly serve
the prudent, cautious soul,
To plan so carefully
Just to suffer in the chaos?
Or is it simply better to
cast wide both weary arms,
Embrace the rising tide,
And hasten over Bifröst
Into Asgård’s bosom?

In the end, I full expect to share the fate of Odin,
And find myself a feast for crows upon the boughs of Yggdrasil.

Aeolian Allusions: Ode to an Unfriend

It seems Ironic that, in your conceit,
You alone remain enamored
By your tortuous machinations
And your subventaneous jabber,
Clueless that your intended audience
Bide their time with stoical grace
Awaiting the imminent harmattan
To flense your fustian deception
Baring just feculent poverty beneath.

After a decade of boreal exclusion,
Welcome we, a warming zephyr!