
The planks and oarsmen groaned as one,
The wind began to blow,
And at the bow, Leif Erikson’s
Unease began to grow.
He’d put his trust in Jesus now,
And sailed to serve The Lord;
Yet Odin’s ravens mocked him
As the longboat left the fjord.
Soon blown off course, old doubts set in
And caused him great distress–
He grabbed a slave and thundered,
“Thrall, bring me the prophetess!”
The witch came forth, her robe bedecked
With skulls and precious stones,
And calling on the Alfather,
She cast her ancient bones.
“What is it?” Leif called out to her,
“What do The Old One’s say?”
“They say a man should trust his god
To guide him on his way.”
And so he climbed the mast to pray,
And high up there he saw
A land ahead that would, someday,
Be named America.
–Photo by me
A great photo and a great poem. Quite likely it happend that way.
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Wonderful poem Michael. You’ve got evidence on the Atlantic shores of Canada. This reminds me a bit of the poetry of the skolds, Norse poets. I have no evidence but a misty memory if being a young Irish lass captured into slavery by the Vikings. Glad I don’t recall the details! 😂
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Submit, thrall!! Lol
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😁Not in this lifetime!,, 😂
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😁
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