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Goddess of the Campfire
With a tail flash she transmogrified from a lightning bolt
Showing her fierceness in the most female like way
Those who looked up were terrified, and terrorized
They had heard of Ghost Dragon but myth did not do her justice
She was slashing and crashing, showing turbulent teeth
The air had turned evil, a feeling of imminent death
It is the Ghost Dragon! Someone dared to whisper.
She breathed fire on the village, to let them know it was she.
Every hundred and eighty years, the soothsayer agreed.
He had miscounted; the people were angry about that.
They held him up, hoping she would kill him first.
She threw down her lightning bolts, careful to spare him.
He was the only magician she knew who could return her
To her former glory as the Goddess of the Campfire.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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