Hunt. Reflect. Thrive.
by Folkbuilder Nick Rice
Bows are strung.
Arrows fly.
Silent woods.
Ullr draws nigh.
Deer move swift through frost and pine,
The harvest wanes, it's near year’s decline.
Fields lay bare, but barns are full,
Winter calls—its breath is cool.
Ullr, god of hunt and bow,
Guide our hands and let them know
When meat is scarce and cold winds bite,
That strength endures the darkest night.
Snares are set, the hunt is strong,
Supplies we gather all autumn long.
In hearth and hall, the fires gleam,
Ready for what winter dreams.
The bowstring hums; the prey is near,
Preparation forged from skill and fear.
We raise our horns, reflect on life,
The harvest earned through toil and strife.
For Lord Ullr, spirits rise
With our skills, we strive.
In your name, we’ll realize
With strength and will, we can thrive.
The Swan's Song
By Apprentice Erik Lugnet
Swan, sing your farewell song.
The memory of summer it may prolong.
Our warmest days are now in the past.
May our harvest be large, so that it may last.
Birch and rowan, color this place.
Now as fall claims this space.
Swan, sing your farewell song.
The memory of summer it may prolong.
Summer is a dream; for the north that is true.
We know it will come when winter is through.
Ahead is the cold, the quiet and dark.
Summer’s warm embrace still close to my heart.
Swan, sing your farewell song.
The memory of summer it will prolong.
Folkbuilder Nicholas Rice
Apprentice Erik Lugnet
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