Mary Bone writes

Campfires of Old

In the campfires of old,

I was the toothless lady

Sitting at a campfire

Waiting for the pow wow.

Dark creases lined my face,

War paint covered me.

I was a smoke signal

That flames had carved

Into granite fixtures -

Remaining in the

Minds of young maidens.

 

A Young Lady's Adventures -- Paul Klee