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Ancient Embers, Awe and Ash; by Joan Koerper

I knew I would be bearing witness to sacred fires transforming shaped and dried clay into an almost indestructible material—pottery. Yet, by night’s end, I had seen a shaman’s dance and heard the whispers of ancient women intently tending the first fires. I realized the primal ritual had transported me through time, transforming the clay of my soul, as well.
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To Go or Not to Go; by Dorothee Lang
An empty stage, tainted in blue light. A whisper, a sound, a step. A woman starting an ancient dance. Her shadow, like a twin, behind her, moving with her. One person filling the stage, becoming a deer, a bird, a seal, a tree.
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Wings on Fire; by Norma Sadler

The day of the big burn we hoisted new shovels over shoulders not made for them, and grabbed the rented burner. Making a noise like some prehistoric monster, the wand on the burner had a mind of its own. With flames roaring down the irrigation ditch, the fire took off, leaving us in the dust of dirt thrown from shovels as we tried to keep the fire on some sort of path. Anxious to see the lay of the land, we burned up the alfalfa weeds, and were pleased to see we were half-finished. Then the fire chose to make its own path, accompanied by the not yet understood westerly wind, and the fire headed right across our property line to the neighbor's field.
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