Return of the Mountain Spirits

The rainbow east of the creek presaged the rest,
even when the stubborn western clouds
revealed only brief glimpses of the sprouting moon
before it set.

The fire in the center lit easily,
and, just as the blessings were said,
a gentle rain came to add its acknowledgement.

Orange sparks flew.

The Mountain Spirits had been absent
from these parts for a long time,
but they returned, as eleven dancers
stepped lightly at the circle’s edge,
knowing deep in their soles
that the world only spins in one direction.

And at the end, when the dance was complete,
the orange sparks flew higher yet
and met the brightening stars.