these stilt walkers facing
fervently forward to mimic
your bronzed cranes but
then you moved on ahead
passing me on the freeway
landed back home
before I could hold you with
strong arms and march with you
from water silo to wide sky -
all ours these acrobatics of traversing
hard ground soft tires spokes
on the certain wheels moving against
the silenced upstream crowd
lookers on bowed heads in the frame
of balancing and returning and
making a determined way through
with hands remembering just what to do
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