Spring Canyon

Today we picnicked at Spring Canyon, where,
We hoped, a jaguarundi might stretch out
Upon the rocks nearby to sun, as friends
Have said they’ve seen them do, but none appeared,
And ibex that we looked for higher up
The mountainsides didn’t either.  How long
Jaguarundi have lived just five miles off,
In the Florida Mountains, we don’t know
And they’ll not tell.  The mountains are a range
Some fifteen miles in length with desert all
Around; a smaller range stands close, and it’s
About ten miles from Mexico, the home
Of the jaguarundi before they made
Themselves at home not far from where we live,
Finding, evidently, the brush and trees
And rough terrain safe and the home as well
Of prey they like, squirrels and mice and birds.
The ibex came here twenty-seven years
Ago, or rather they were brought - a few -
By air or ship and train and truck without
Asking their leave.  They’ve so much made themselves
At home that hunters now can buy the right
To bring them down with arrows from their bows
Or bullets from their muzzle loaded guns,
Choices that make them just as dead as men
And women - children too - who’ve died today,
Far more often than not through others’ choice,
In violence, in the streets of the Near East.