giant monarchs
clinging to the bark of oak trees
wings opening and closing

kestrel, streaked in reds and blues,
pressed against a glass door

7 lionesses in the sand of a beach
each in her own territory
one lion for each year

Carp pushing against my hand
gold breaking the current
of the Pedernales River

porpoises lit green by phosphorescence
surfacing in the waves of the Mississippi gulf

cougar walking at my knee
painted buntings, mice and rats

hummingbird in my hand
tortoise at my feet

a doe with an arrow in her back
silver in the sun

wave after wave of pelicans
spiraling above
as traffic rocked my car on the side of the road

black bear standing on his hands for joy
in the shallows of a stream

some of these are dreams
some of these waking reality
some dreams came to life,
some events returned to dreams
it matters little which is which
all are memory now.