Taming

Every time I found a shorter path
to Hungry Hollow, I would take it.
Delrex, Irwin, Heslop cut off minutes
here and there, till all I had to do
was disappear down darker slopes
and wade through longer grass,
not lawn, by muddy creek beds,
slippery hills with short dry shrubs
to help my hands. I made my way
to islands in the middle of the stream,
through marsh, exhilarated
and embarrassed crossing human beings
or dogs a little wild only.

When the pandemic choked us out
I was walking and I heard a child
laughing with her brother on a lawn.
Voices rose behind a fence, and sounds
of trampolining, smells of barbecue
attending then my thefty way to the ravine.
Or families sat across an asphalt river
and called with language to each other.
Windows in the sunset glowed like sky.
I slowed down and I was curious.
In my heart there was a shiver
and I paused and almost wanted to come in.

I was like the deer that wandered
onto Main Street, trotted irresistibly
along by curiosity, lost for sure
but pressing up against the window
of the Shepherd’s Crook, almost ready
to break in and to be among the people.

Luke Sawczak