”Raunächte” or The Twelve Nights After X’mas

In the lore 'twixt Yuletide and New Year's Eve,
A quiet caution, traditions to believe.
Between Christmas and the birth of the year,
Hold back your laundry, let no clothesline peer.

Wotan, the Norse god, on Sleipnir's stride,
Through the twelve nights, in mysteries abide.
No white linens flutter in the crisp, cold air,
A risk for maidens, a peril to bear.

In the "Rauhnächte", where spirits retreat,
Smoke clears the way, old demons to defeat.
Evil expelled, the year cleansed anew,
A mystical time, where tales come true.

The washing machine, its hum to subdue,
For energies mystical, it might undo.
Laws suspended, in this cosmic reprieve,
To the "other world," where spirits achieve.

All the twelve nights, betwixt moon and the sun,
A bridge of magic, where spirits do run.
Doors slam shut in the silence profound,
Banishing old energies, the quiet's resound.

In the stillness between the festive cheer,
Laundry paused, mystic whispers draw near.
In the twelve nights' quiet, as the year finds its way,
Feel the enchantment on this sacred day.

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