Sometimes I think I’ve been here before,
recognizing a particular boulder in a
small meadow along an alpine trail,
a trail that is new to me.
Sometimes a conversation
is word for word the same
as from the past
and the afternoon light slanting
Now, today, there is this image.
I’ve not seen it before,
at least not that I can remember,
not in this life,
not in this dimension.
And yet familiar—- winged
emerging from a tree’s heart,
a spirit shadow
released to wander
on autumn’s moonlit nights;
drifting across wetlands where pond turtles rest,
gliding through the oak savannah to the
river and beyond.
What do you seek in your wanderings?
Perhaps I can go with you.
Perhaps our answer lies upstream,
in the mountains.