I've written a kenning poem:

Freya's song filled my heart. His words bound my spirit from the west.

I trod a path from the green land of the setting sun. I rode the wooden water horse from the west to the ancient sanctuary of the Danes.
I dwell in the terrible one's meadow.

We thrive in the shade of ancient trees.
Sleipnir's daughter runs across Odin's soil,
Freya's cats curl at the hearth.