The Evening Cooling Slowly

You come down the hill.
You don’t want to go
Back in the house yet.

You stall by parking
In a public park,
A small one but green

By a small river,
just more than a stream.
The direct sun’s gone

And the desert air
Cools slowly, turning
Pleasant with twilight.

You and some tourists,
Traffic and birdsong
And water murmur.

Uncomfortable
As you are, body
Displeased with itself,

No sheer contentment
Descends, but you’re not
Trapped in a bed,

You’re not shivering,
The pleasant is mixed
With the discomfort

And you’d leave the world
To its devices
To stay here—you’d leave

The world through this door
If it would take you
Like this, if you could.