An Eskimo darling was born many years ago

Though her name is not relatively important

I will tell you it was “Mig”

Her mother every night would swaddle her dear child

In bright colorful blankets and a dribble cloth bib

Near the fire Mig would sleep

But not too close

Just enough for the light to reflect the colors of her clothes

The colors would travel through the igloo chimney hole

Glowing softly through the sky; there they would dance, play, and roll

The few living there in the tundra would awe and smile

For you could see the colors of the cloth for many a’ mile

It was especially bright the colder times of year

And in those frozen seasons many would stay up late just to catch a glimpse

Of their own colorful frigate

And though many years have passed

Since Mig was alive

More have carried on the tradition as not to deprive

The cold nights of warmth and the color-thirsty sky