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Poem

Lakeside, among the rustling reeds,
there is a whir and stir, whisks of motion
swish and ruffle.
Yellow Jackets, dragonflies, and Yellow Tailed fritillaries
vie for space in the sultry air.

The water though is still,
a mirror turned over for the sun to peer through.

In the glassy water a day-dreaming vision surfaces,
I see the animals;
they are neither in the water or out of it.
They skim between worlds, observe with wide eyes;
owls, bears, racoons, and Bob Cats
all observing.
It comes to me that they are totem creatures
spirits and guardians of the living.
Familial ties keep them close; they walk a life-path with us.

All this seen in the gloss of the still lake,
in the dazzle and glaze reflected there.
The formless taking shape, ghosts within ghosts
that follow me when I leave.

Journeying on, they gradually fade to invisibility,
all but one,
my own totem stays, and is with me now
as I write this down,
yet I will not name that one, not under
this or any other sun that haunts the daylight.

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