Solitude

Solitude

July 1998

By Barbara Briggs

Kindling fires
burn upon the mountain,
pink and gold flames
lick the sky
dance
turn
whirl about
in the quiet of the
afternoon

Solitude.
A traveler
sinking his feet into dust
avoice
like tinkling bells
faintly shining
Solitude.
The sacred fire
and bells—
in the dust
a dream dances
flares up
rides upon the air
and is gone
gone!
in the quiet of the afternoon