I round the corner by the junior high musing
that the intersection will be crowded
in the morning
when school resumes. A doe and faun
cross in front of me, the faun
struggling to keep the pace.
Aware of the sudden upswing of traffic
at that hour, the doe has already
rung the schoolyard bell.
Her deer-child studies the dangers
that separate lush yards
from the woods beyond.
She'll be safe now, and I will settle in
from my morning swim to translate
Odysseus meeting the Cyclops.