her foothold––slipping, climbing again.
Too occupied to look back.
cantering when she pulled the reins;
hands clenched, she still holds on––
her own body running away from her.
behind her, slides the bolt
into the latch, as if a lock could
keep her safe, keep out momentum.
such dangers happen elsewhere.
cannot keep out––a goshawk mantling a pigeon
Perhaps the next phase is no more
than fabric thinning at the knees, the elbows.
A pear left to ripen too long.
for the blank spaces on old maps
before cities and highways
filled the land, those uncharted territories:
A place to start over. Slow down.
But first learn patience, learn to wait