During the lean years,
when the crows grew fat
on the corpses, stacked,
like firewood,
waiting for Odin's grace.
Huddled against the snow and ice,
Listening to the skalds,
who told of warmer new lands.
Onward the longboats did sail,
braving waves and winds,
till finally Ostara took pity,
sending a signal, a branch with fresh
green leaves, soon the Vinland,
did appear.
Coming ashore, giving thanks,
building a new home under a
strange sky, renewing vows a new life.