Creating oxbow lakes,
for all the wild to enjoy,
replenished by occasional floods,
the lakes there to employ.

Settlers came and settlers went,
they came to ranch and farm.
But when that use petered out,
they pulled up stakes and moved on.

It was late in the 20th century,
when the land came up for sale.
It was bought and granted to the state,
a park for all hardy and hale.

I wandered there in the 1980s,
when the park was still raw and new.
I went to see the animals and birds,
to walk, relax, contemplate and view.

Late in the day on a Saturday,
driving from the suburbs to the wild,
I'd pick a trail to take that day and walk,
with sun waning west and the air mild.

By lakes with migrating waterfowl,
alligators, people fishing, hawks.
An armadillo in the trail,
scratching out a living eating bugs.

There came a screeching through tall grass,
a bobcat I suppose was taking charge.
Meanwhile, a buck in full antler,
appeared in front of me very large.

Down by the river far from other people,
saw a huge sow with piglets many,
and in the same patch of brush, javelina,
enjoying the cover and wallows plenty.

One day, I heard to my left a mighty wail,
an angry boar with brown fur flying,
crossed the field behind me very fast,
saying my heart didn't skip would be lying.

One October day much cooler then,
fifty deer were gathered ruting in a meadow.
I watched bucks clashing for the does'
affection while they waited for their hero.

Walking an old farm road, I passed,
between an old and young buck vying,
paid no attention to me at all,
young doe nearby for their trying.

Those days walking alone in the park,
gone now, but their memories linger on.
Often thinking back how the wild calms,
the mind long after that life is gone.