Who were you in my dream?
Were you the owl flying so low over our car at dusk
or the red-tailed hawk in the tree on the lane
eager to show us how easy it is to fly?
Were you the snow-covered brook
murmuring past the house that Ira built
waiting for us to notice how ebb and flow
still smooth the stones even through the thickest ice?
Or were you that gentle curl of birch bark
lying near the path,
reminding us again how life comes full circle?
I keep asking but you don’t answer,
who were you in my dream?