THE WRATH OF GOD

All about lies in shadow
Boys sleep among the rocks, face up like dead men
The Great Bear's walking on the mountains to the North
A low fire's roaring in the blast, the air's full of the smell of burning charcoal

In the shifting light of a quarter-moon
Voices call from the dark
Like desperate souls in need
I have gray in my hair
I can feel it in the ground
Death's closing on my heels
Like a silent tracking hound
The wrath of God lies sleeping
But all will be known to us
As to every man