the wind rattles the glass of the window and i find it kind of funny

see a window means wind eye in old norse

vindr is wind and auga is eye

vindauga

and the wind is rattling the fuck outta the eye

and i lay here

tired enough to pass out yet just awake enough to listen to the wind on the window

like it is spitting in the eye of the world itself

the sun can’t seem to do an even glaze and that kicks up the gusts

the incompetent old hag missing spots and we build eyes to watch

and i wonder why i wonder these things at all

as the vindr hits the vindauga and sleep stamps it’s foot angrily at being ignored

wait your turn you petulant shit

how many damned nights have i had to wait for you

only for you to tease me and leave with heavy eyes and blue balls as i drag my ass out of bed more tired than i was before getting into it

let me have my passing fancies

and the wind blows harder

laughing at our little fight

as the sun can’t seem to bake the earth on the other side of the globe either

drunk on her own sense of self

i’ll dream of ling ships with dragons carved into the front

of wine and song on the seven seas

burning villages and taking everything that isn’t tied down

of a small cabin on a hill with a vindauga that rattles in the rain

a warm fire

where sleep can find my nestled next to the roaring fire on an elk skin draped across the well worn floor

my viking queen with her long blonde hair tangled in my beard as we whisper inconsequential things into the night

where the chill vindr is the breath of odin

a his two ravens circle high above

keeping watch upon us

and that’s a good thought to sleep on

if she’ll have me

and if she won’t, well i’ve got the wind and thoughts of her and crackling flame

howl you bastard

all through the night