I sat by the campfire, warming my hands;
embers sparking, colorful hues of ultra-heated red,
Saying a prayer for the fallen stars over head,
Placing palo santo among the flames;
Wafting an air of mystery into the night.
Gypsy wanderer, cloaked in green;
Heralds a message as yet unseen,
Drawing from her satchel of white;
Thirteen cards in the dead of night.
By light of fire she reads them all,
Weaving tales from pictures called,
By many names across time and space;
A fortune famed in any place.