Kinship

Don’t shade your eyes against
the hawk above you
or the animal, unnamed but present,
that is slipping through the brush on the roadside.

Invite them
to your day — include them
as if they were family,
for they are, a branch

you have never known well,
but who nonetheless
carry news of kinship
from unknown regions.

You will not understand them.
That’s all right.  It will be their world
and yours touching, not blending
or overlapping — you are too far along

this path for that to happen,
at least right now.  For a moment, though,
you’ll feel them breathing, see flight
in a different way, try to name

what is in the underbrush simply by sound.
Skunk, possum, raccoon…or something else?
You’ll invent, perhaps, a new word
for what is unseen there.  It may call out

that swift creature
to stand before you unafraid. Maybe
you’ll stare back into its amber eyes
while the hawk observes you two,

gathers your images in, tells itself: yes,
I recall this, there was a time when all of us
took each other on as simple travelers,
and did not scare so easily.