The Shapeshifter
may appear as flash of beak
or splash of wing,
a swift shadow
flickering across the tundra,
or a black feather
impaling the snow,
or an ink stain
on a white tablecloth,
a smear of tar on a frozen river,
as the Creator of the World
enthroned
on a golden arch,
as the Stealer of Light
(and fries)
perched on a parking lot lamp
under the aurora,
and as a restless
raven-haired boy
stuffing cups and spoons
and napkins
from a coffeehouse counter
into his black sports bag.
Photo by Robert Dodd
Still Life with Tortillas 
Me likey poem and image!
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Cool! Thanks, Katie.
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I love this, Susan. Your description of the shapeshifter evokes such clear and compelling images, as does the reappearance of the mysterious boy you mentioned in your last story 🙂
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Thank you, Carol. I’ve been haunted by the similarity between the boy and Raven. It feels like I’m on the right track now. ❤
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Fascinating connection that does seem to be an apt metaphor.
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Nice!
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Thank you, Lisa.
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Nicely crafted poem S; so many shapes and shifts to ponder. Thanks for the photo credit!
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There you go, messing with words again, R. Thank you! ❤
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Clearly Alaska inspires you! And we… benefit. 🙂 xo This is gorgeous: “under the aurora,
and as a restless
raven-haired boy
stuffing cups and spoons
and napkins
from a coffeehouse counter
into his black sports bag.”
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I’m delighted that you enjoyed Shapeshifter, Dawn! Thank you! ❤
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Beautifully captured.
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Thank you, poet.
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