The Vikings Have Arrived Again

They are expert mariners and fearless too They hail from a foreign land, across the blue. Norway and Iceland had met these men before. They were watching wearily as their knars hit the shore. They prefer to hug the coastline, a keen observer said. His comrade was horrified, he was afraid they might make him dead. They know their currents and their coasts; their navigation is keen. Their sailing skills are mystical, maybe magical, a little obscene. I hear they use their ancestral soul hearts; they tell them what to do. One of them is known as The Warrior, his helmet has a slash of blue. They make mental maps that are accurate an old woman told them. And a plumb bob, stated a man who was the one who sold them. The presence of seabirds brought the men’s heads to the coast. They are manly, one might even be my son, a braggart did boast. They use a crystal sun stone to show them the way. The other man left quickly then. Why? No one could say.