When I think I may succumb to loneliness,
art saves me, every time,
as does walking to riverside.
Wildlife draws near,
stirring up some kind of magic,
reminding me I am of this earth.
I am rabbit in the meadow at dawn, vanishing elusive.
I am doe at forest’s edge locked in gaze, awareness pure.
I am crow sharpening black beak on river rock.
I am coyote bewildered on noonday city block.
I am midlife she, crouched, one hand upon knee,
one hand in a sacred gesture, relaxed and ready.
In the dream-time season,
the spiral of descent pulls me inward,
a deep breath,
a pulsing path of shadow and light.
I encounter you there in surprise.
are we ourselves?
or, are we reflections of each other?