simonhlilly

STONE AGE

Snow clouds drift below moon and stars.

The river roars its long distance.

.

What can can we do

But breathe in the warm smoke of fires

And huddle down into the skins of animals?

.

In this way

We become the world’s eyes

In long winter.

.

Hunters of stories

In the mists.

Recounters of the long herds

And the cunning wings.

.

Sustained by the strong life of others.

So we may sing their praises

And with our hands

Shape amber and jet

And flint and bone.

.

Beneath the one tree of starlight

And dancing, rising sparks.

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