T O T E M

Is it merely a little lake
with even smaller denizens
darting under sun shimmer?

Or maybe a big liquid lens
magnifying the earth below
for curious entomologists?

Ripples form and move away
Back and forth like myself
As I try to reach the moon
Grasping for the light but
Happiness hides in puddles
And each time I look there
I can only see the surface
Only myself wrapped in sky
With everything between us
Blurred beyond recognition

Other Works by Jennie Yoder
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