Red pig, bounty of the hunting,
Spitted, turning, juices yellow,
Feeding flames of gentle friendship.
Sits in place of greater game-lords,
Boars of Power, battle-tested,
Hooves of iron, tusks of fire,
Mountains tremble 'neath Their treading.
No hunter here could take Their measure.
High on a mountain, Falcon perches.
Watchful eye and sharpened talons
Guarding lands from reaver's pleasure.
Beneath the perching Great Swines slumber,
Snowy hides seem saffron-golden.
Red Their ears, or night-sky colored?
Battle-maidens soothe Their brows with
Brush and comb, from bristles taken.
Herd-circle shares a common Dream,
Of warrior-giants, arrayed in battle.
Deeds they do of marvelous telling,
Livery changing with each Summer,
Now shield-brothers, now contenders.
Faces change with passing seasons.
But whatever banners carry,
Falcon-eyes from each helm shining.