My mind would slip off into
this world where I’d find myself
sitting on this purple painted
park bench that was hanging in
mid air across from this blue farm
house surrounded by pink
dandelions outlined by a fence
that sort of faded in and out of
view. You could see where some –
one had mended it here and there
planted vegetables now and again.

This long ear Hare walks in front
of me maybe only eight feet away
he stops looks both ways then
proceeds along down the path that
leads away from Toad’s road. I look
behind me there isn’t anyone else
around too bad in a way as they are
not known to visit here often. And
are quite interesting to watch – talk
to if they’ll give you the time of day.

I haven’t been here that long when
I notice a large flock of Crows flying
around the perimeter of the clouds
that outline the boundary of the field
that circumvents us. Off one direction
then another they fly around from one

place to the next stop wait for a moment
until they have all landed then off they
go again. There must be hundreds of
them maybe more. Just when I start to
think they’ve flown off they land right in
front of me it’s amazing watching them

move around their wings flapping as they
bump into one another with each carefully
placed step. The birds are always moving
closer to one another exactly the opposite
of what I thought they’d do. Then off they
go. “Don’t give it a second thought their
use to finding worms here after it rains
like it did last night”. Looking around to
find who’s talking to me checking to see
if I have something in my pockets to offer
them. “Don’t bother they’ll not stay here
long”. Where are you I ask who are you?
“I’m right here”. Looking down I notice
across the way this Fennec sitting on a
fallen log just far enough away where I
couldn’t reach him if I had tried. And in
a strange way I did want to touch him, just
to see if he was actually there or not or
was he just something I was imagining.

“This is a part of a stone statuary that
was erected in honor of someone who
passed here once. She was a brave soul
who gave her life saving her cubs in the
year of the great flood. We call this place

Mother Hen‘s Den in her honor. May I ask
you how you
came to be here sir”. Thinking to myself
about his question I fell back to sleep where
I found myself watching this Timber Wolf
howling at a Green Moon the hillside was
covered with snow he was watching his
pack as they ran along the trail that follows
the Riverbed just pass key basin. The wind
is rushing through winter’s trees like a snake
withers across a summer sage field. It’s early
morning and very cold. “Wake up” I’m not
sure exactly where I am or what’s going on
but I am pretty sure there are a couple Strix
Otus ‘ sitting on a branch above me talking
about how bothersome Crows can be sometimes.

A strange feeling crosses my mind this place
is like being inside a picture frame that has
no borders. There are very few people here
a number of different kinds of animals flying
pigs a herd of wild horses running along a
map drawn with color crayons, I remember
these two elephants that kept jumping back
and forth over this irrigation ditch that ran up
hill against the sky line. There was this bunch
of Jerboa’s running back and forth across a
broken railroad bridge that had a family of
Brown Bats living in its rafters. And then there
was this Bassett Hound who I later learn was
named Fred who came over and sat next to me.

“Ever seen anything like this” he asks me, no
I haven’t I tell him. In a way I’m amazed that
he is talking to me but with everything else
happening here I just figure it was the norm.

I ask him if he knows where we are.
“Dope” he answers “but it is a great
view one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

There are a few familiar voices echoing
my name across Park Avenue like maybe
I forgot it or something “ it’s time to go”,
but I don’t want to leave i reply. “You
need to get out of here”. There’s a couple
Policeman walking down Marble Street I
think to myself so what I haven’t done
anything wrong besides if I decide to stay
who knows maybe these voices will go
away and I can go back to day dreaming the
day a way. Then before you can say hum
dummier backwards this Frog rides by on
an orange tricycle.“Their not kindling Mr.,
you need to get out of here look up there.

He’s about to paint over us again turn every-
thing into collogue with a herd of Mule Deer
crossing over an absent sky. He’s already started
look to the furthest corner of our world where
stories end and others begin on the other
the colors are already beginning to change.
poem by joseph mayo wristen
written September 9th 2013

poem by joseph mayo wristen
written September 9th 2013
photo is from the internet from
Elephant walk, 3d, abstract,