Shaman Leading Us To Water

We stood ankle deep wearing nothing but the lake winds;

kissing with mint leaves between our lips.

The reflective self shed of other earthy tones.

For a moment, nature mirrored.

A grass ring, shore glass,

an antique book from the hands of the makeshift shaman.

Days made sacred by connective wisdom.

Duality divining as if pronounced from a book

Evoking the flicker.

We were caught in the footage burnt forever into our blood.



© Sonja J Johnston 16 Sep 2013 for Chris