I used to love to hear my mother say

she could run like the wind

I'd see a woman on a ridge, then light

rushing past.. sometimes

she was gowned, a figure from myth.

But often her body had turned

to light by the time I looked.

It was never raining.

There was never pursuit.

She just ran. Climbed the ridge and ran.

I'd seen deer run like that

but knew she'd never dream of becoming other

just to escape more heartache.

If she had needs, no one could see them.

She ran like the wind. All the threats

I can name fall behind her.