On the morning of Thirteenth Day, the warlocks sit in the sauna and sing their warlocks: varĂ°-lokkur, their songs of power.

They sing up the Sun, in its years and days.

They sing up the seeds, and the harvest to be.

They sing up the lambing, the calving, the fawning.

At the turning of winter, the warlocks sing summer.

Named for the songs that they sing, they sing.

 

And summer, truly, comes.