first to catch mine eye the barrette in her hair — cornflower blue filaments of keratin or was it a dark celeste? an antique pattern, worn the olde-fashioned style in the manner of the First Men she crouched low to the grund pretending groceries to arrange on a supermarket shelf — a goddess in disguise but I recognise plain swift a Norn when I see one and raced hasty mine heart — rare in deed, her kind to see — this far from Amber was I being summoned? were my days, in this backwater shadow world, where hid I've tarried, over? still grappling with the thoughts I watched as she, both abrupt and graceful, stood up and turned a customere to face 'twas then thæt nearly did I fall to the grund on my knees in frightful shock for she as young wæs as a newly hatched eaglet carrying still the freshness of Asgard’s ancient mists and in her eyes the brilliance of our revered Amber 'tis unheard of -- a hatchling Norn in the annals of historie ancient her kind the same in numbre for æternity so this a trick must be. illusion but even shapeshifters would recoil at the very thought of a Norn to impersonate. not Loki himself would dare! thus in haste I fled ere sight of me she catch and a burning mystery robs me of slumber wherefor hast thou come hither dear lady? have the Courts of Chaos shifted so greatly thy presence to allow? and if childe Norns in the Realm may spring forth, hwæt of destinie? hwæt tales art thou here to weave in the fabric of our histories? I must know [1-IV-2023]