Powdered Stones

terra-cotta tinted dust
led the wind
in a dance beyond my path
unrolled a screen
a sepia movie of soft motes
stamped visions of the past
until it whispered out of sight
as swiftly as it sprang
left me in a trance
to rattle buried bones
to scatter age-old ashes
over powdered ancient stones



This poem is a found poem. It came, almost verbatim, while riding through the Southwest desert and after it was written I felt loss as well as completion. I return to that day each time I read these words.