Totems
I almost see the totem animals.
an almost place, placed before my eyes,
this morn-flushed day.
The red sky that charged the horizon
is shading to flamingo pink.
The storm must have lost its wings.
The light is tattered, but it plumes now
with the floss of broken clouds.
Lakeside, among the dripping weeds,
Yellow Jackets, Dragonflies,
and Yellow Tailed fritillaries
vie for air space.
The water is still, a mirror
turned over to watch
what reflections fly beneath it.
It is there that I see the animals.
They are neither in the water or out of it.
They skim, peering into both,
they observe with wide eyes,
owls, bears, racoons, and Bob Cats,
all observing.
They are the aliens now, and we the
spirits of water and air.
The totem animals, sniff, and eye us
as parents or guardians would.
Familial ties keep them close,
as they feel-out each life-path,
then following, but at a distance
always at a distance, for they possess
this hinterland amidst the glaze
of our daydreams.
A surface tension that echoes
the nearness of water and sky,
yet from an in-between place,
close, yet so far away.
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