Dreamweaver

I have snuck under the Yggdrasil tree,
and started to drink from its nectar.
From dawn to dawn there's lore in the air,
and folksongs that shatter and scatter.

I have seen that the harvest is near.

From the moon I can tell when it's time
to reap, when the sheaves become weary,
from the scent of the wind, when it's heavy
with storm and the touch of the dusk.

I have called all my sisters to sleep,
when the men in their ships go a-fishing,
and I tell them the stories of yonder,
with a helmet, a rune and a fortress,
and we sleep.

In the morning their dreams are my harvest,
I will sneak to the Yggdrasil tree.