The day opened upon a land that bore fresh scars. The great beasts raised on the fifth day lay broken across valley and plain. Traditions keep reports of stone falling from the heights, of earth riven, of seas lifting walls against the shore.

Each December, when the sun falls to its lowest point and the full moon climbs higher than any other moon of the year, I watch.

The fifth day marks the first quiet turning in the labour of creation. Scripture speaks of the waters bringing forth living creatures and of birds rising in the firmament.