a tiny brujo

leaps into her room

out of the corner of her eye

she sees him land

a spark of color that streaks by

and vanishes in a loud snap

she lies still

white skin on white sheets

she knows who it is


in her dream

she weaves a shield of flowers, palm fronds, and ginger

red on green,

with shade between,

and purple orchids interwined


she presses the shield to her breast

held with a green snake coiled round her neck–

a choker, an amulet

she reads the signs

she sees her future


in the morning

she walks into her garden

yellow birds land on her shoulders

the sun burns her skin

she feels the world expand and contract

her heart at the center


sinking to the ground

tierra amada

she weeps at the feet

of a mud-colored god

who rises up before her

his long legs robed

his face hidden in clouds


the god rumbles

the earth trembles

her spirit soars



brujo:   shaman

tierra amada:  beloved earth

Photo of Arenal Volcano, Costa Rica, by Margaret Weinland.


Adrian Dunn is a second generation Californian with six interesting sisters, who is working on a collection of their stories called “Old Women Tell the Truth.”