heaven in the socket of your wings and cloud in the arch of your neck, with sun in the burnt feathers of your breast and power in your feet, with terrible wisdom in your flight, swoop to me a moment, swoop!”
Sudden gusts of wind tore at the little fires of flame, till they could be heard to rustle, and the lake began to speak in a vast hollow noise, beyond the tearing of trees. Distant lightning was beating far off, over the black hills.
Ramón dropped his arm, which had been bent over his head. The drum began to beat. Then he said:
“Sit down a moment, before the Bird shakes water out of his wings. It will come soon. Sit down.”
There was a stir. Men put their serapes over their faces, women clutched their rebozos tighter, and all sat down on the ground. Only Kate and Carlota remained standing, on the outer edge. Gusts of wind tore at the flames, the men put their hats on the ground in front of them.
“The earth is alive, and the sky is alive,” said Ramón in his natural voice, “and between them, we live. Earth has kissed my knees, and put strength in my belly. Sky has perched on my wrist, and sent power into my breast.
“But as in the morning the Morning-star stands between earth and sky, a star can rise in us, and stand between the heart and the loins.
“That is the manhood of man, and for woman, her womanhood.
“You are not yet men. And women, you are not yet women.
“You run about and toss about and die, and still you have not found the star of your manhood rise within you, the stars of your womanhood