Short Norn Poems

neath the tree sat a norn
one of three, shears in hand
crowned in nature’s floral fare
and wisps of ancient silvered hair

she has no care of god or man
no interest in some scriptured plan
bad and good have equal weight
when measured in the hands of fate

haggard with majestic grace
timeless lines crisscross her face
she’ll give no clue, no reason why
just cut your line when time to die...

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