Thursday, December 8, 2011

A Prospector’s Elixir

Melted snow, hands bathed.

Spit on a white flint rock.

Dust, debris, sticks and straw.

Tea from the soot of a wood fire.

Shaman’s dance and happenstance.

A dirt clod from the Illinois.

Fill the void and drape in black.

At the base of a 100 year oak.

-Hunter-gatherer