Travels of the Ancient Kind

Brief Tales & Prose Poems

On the way up the mountain
we look at Lake Titicaca, blue
and sprawling. We sidetrack
to give bread to donkeys and
black pigs, hidden in a cliffside
alcove — one pig stretches out
under the donkey’s mouth,
to catch the falling bread. A
small tapestry of a woman in
brown hat & crimson skirt
emerges behind us on the stone
trail, clicking ahead. Her tribe
of imperious alpacas – curious
and long-necked – weave around us.