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.

Tell me,

are we ourselves?

or, are we reflections of each other?