by Marg Walker

for my parents


I came by breeding to the far meadow
where sheep—as they will—milled,
bewildered, ruminant and insatiable.

My tender lambs strayed like thoughts
across the thistled fields. I knew the names
of each danger: howl and blizzard, fur and wire.

I kept them at bay. I heard sounds in the night
I could ignore, and silences I could not,
close as they were.

I rested on the ridge where I could see
great distances and all wanderings,
where I could run as if free,

my lean body rinsed with clean air
and the scent of flowers unattainable
below. When the storm came

there was more of everything—
sky, harsh wind, a wildness in the eyes
of those who needed me.

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Marg Walker pursues her abiding interest in the human voice through poetry and music. Her poems have appeared in Minnesota Monthly, Tishman Review, Wilderness House Review, Red Wolf Journal, and other publications. Marg co-hosts the Midstream Reading Series, a monthly live poetry reading series in Minneapolis/St. Paul, Minnesota. Her first full-length poetry collection, Sitting in Lawn Chairs After a Complicated Day, was published by Nodin Press in February 2020.