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In the beginning
was one.
Crouched in a cave
where bats first hung,
where webs were first woven,
dreams first spun,
crouched one,
alone.
And then one day
into the gloom
another came;
the fire was lit
the cave was warmed,
the howl of the wind
became a song
and two
were one.
Soon winter passed,
and into the sun
from the dark of the cave
one summer dawn
crept three:
the third was a child in arms,
the three were
a family, new-born.
By
Judith Nicholls
