Mother Jord

bosom of the broad swathes' lap, a matron's apron
with flowers' garland grass and sedge and tree woven,
might's mother, mother of all wights great and small,
rides, Audhumla's daughters driven, across the bumbling plains
where peace and joy town-fest meet her all ways, outwards ranging.
rust in trees' shed flutters, oil painted broad yellow and gold sunset-dripped
across the lonely, wondrous waves of woodland, oceanic.
And all ways meet, every road on petal-strewn soil she walks out onto,
neighbors and old grudges nodding, now is the time to bow, the Lady,
put away all feuds in broken bread with barley dust shaking soft
on white, linen cloths beneath the ale-frothed horns toasting,
boasting oaths to frith and grith, sworn in by thunder's main
called down goat-chariot to bow, his hand extended invite
escorting blessed mother across the wide and long laid lands.
There the golden twins smile, in lustrous, libidinal distribution
handing fruits of ripe and eager shape, sensual, to matrons
and fathers, children, old men and grandmothers spry now dancing!
bosom of the broad swathes' lap, the matron's apron
opens out blessings for all kin, cornucopia, to come and eat,
juicy the succulent fruits of peace. Hail the Mother!
Bless her footways safe and sky-sailed forever,
till milk-deer lands soft foot-fall near the swans' song
reed and heron, by the fens, where lake-bathed, she dips
and sinks to fair elfland, there to walk the rainbow bridge
back into the skies where broad-rimmed father waits.
Hail the Mother! bosom of the broad swathes' lap, a matron's blessing
be here now and forever upon this holy aurr-blended soil.
Hail the Mother! whose deep loins hold and nourish all
with wet sacraments of caverns' bliss drip-bubbling up from deepest wells.
bosom of the broad swathes' lap, mother matron's earthy feet
touch this land forever, bright blessed heaven-queen of old.