Ritual

The distant sun setting,

radio drowning my thoughts.

Wheels spinning on a dusty road,

dry and cracked.

We stop for a break,

running into a ceremony

repeated hundreds of years over.

People surround the growing fire,

becoming entranced in the colors,

running in circles with fanciful dress.

Blending together,

meshing with nature.

Wind swaying the trees.

Howling, wolves contribute

to traditions of the night.

Pounding felt in my chest,

drums rolling like hills.

Voices reverberate off the mountains;

shouting back to the parading crowd.

Becoming lost in the moment;

spirited away to another world.