riding home through these frosted lands
fireless nights in a moving trance
wheeltracks and footpaths that meet like hands

and in the spaces above the pines
a halfmoon on the rise
orion against the sky

past the fields where the morning grows
where the harvest stands in rows
woodsmoke against the distant snow

past the fairgrounds and evergreens
where there'll be bread and wine and mead
so simple a world can be

past the roses, the courtyard walls
in the chamber her fabric falls
she comes in almost no time at all
when i get home to my sister

the end of the odyssey.