I am a mountain creek
my nimble flowing self, day after day
undulates like a cool liquid ribbon
I tumble along, gurgling over silent rocks
once on my way for one moment
I felt I was only the tip of a ripple
carrying a hawk’s feather
in my trout-like mouth
felt like a gift
from cloudless sky
and in that special moment
when I was
present
I held hawk’s journey
believed I could fly
that I owned his soaring ingredients
to lift from frigid gushing
with uplifted beak, a glistening eye
My joy was overflowing
I felt his
presence
his sharp claws
dipping into my liquid self
lifting a fish so majestically up
Now still I am winding and bending and rushing
there is no escaping this watery fate
nor would I wish to escape because
I am nearing a majestic hanging oak
ahead I may weave through a cluster of fragrant reeds
rock a congregation of fidgety minnows in my arms
all gifts if I just remember to stay
present
now I am here but
later, who knows, I may be
a hawk staring down at mountain creek
like the one that dropped its feather
like the one that dipped into my watery soul
like the one that bid me stay
present
