Those old Swede farmers in the long dark —
daylight only between noon and two —
what did they do after feeding the cows and horses?
coffee in the kitchen by a kerosene lamp
the blue enameled urn warm all day.
One could do some serious dreaming then
beside the wood-stoked stove. 

In a corner, 
the house elf too snores a small snore, while
the farmer’s wife turns sweet cardamom-smelling 
dough into rounds ready for the oven

Out by the frozen lake, a slow-blooded troll 
on cold, heavy feet, watches the winter spirits, 
creatures of ice and air, spin and turn and slide 
upon the white skin of the black water.

© by Nils Peterson. 
Used with the author’s permission.