And the sky-fire sinks, dark comes back.
The snow fields and hills silent and dark.
A hungry eagle swoops, snatches a too-slow hare.
Yet the dark is less.
At the sky's edge a glow.
The red ball will roll there longer, longer,
And then the long light.
Now they shuffle back
to
their caves,
Tell the old ones and the young
Safe by the fire,
"It's lit! The sky-fire's lit!
Make up the fire.
Make it."
They know they must feed their fire
to
keep the sky-fire fed .
The Ice Comes
This is the time of the long light
When rocks are hot from the sky-fire
And the People's bones cold from the long dark
Warm at last.
They are in their watching place at the rim of rocks.
But there is no sky-fire, no heat in the rocks,
A grey cold, grey up there hiding the fire.
No warmth in their bones.
The People move and stamp and stare
As cold beasts do with snow at their backs,
As they do now down in the valley,
Staring and stamping.
But it is the time of the long light,
The time of the sky-fire, hot and close.
