John Zedolik writes

The Reins

                                                                

Two pigs, one unleashed,

have purpose in the park—

acorns under the civic oaks

that bear their bounty every fall—

so snouts to the grass and straight

to the trunk, reined slightly back or not,

nimble even carrying their weight

upon hooves peeping between the blades,

the tender, upright and obedient,

follows to the source, a glutton

for the gathering of two intent

upon the yet-giving earth

whose final skin peels off

under their snuffle and twitch,

yielding to those whose appetite

and will masses with much greater press.