Children of Dawn

Fire dances, circles of stone, leaping high,
Night flows, silently, outside.
Stones dance, in shadows, shadows of fear,
Fear carried, with the tide.

Dawn comes, with light and ice,
Ice that cuts, blades of death.
Hunters stand, round the dancing fire;
Hunters, wolves of the North.

Spears reach high, women sing,
Hunters turn, and dance.
Blood, warm food, elders smile;
Hunters raise the lance.

by Jerome Brooke