Resting my eyes
made the grid of the mennonite church community garden look
like a brick wall wishing well we sat on
the day your
sister learned how to ride her bike.
You had just fallen
and scraped your palms so you decided to sit
and watch her with me. And you tensed
as her head went just out of sight as she
rode on the path behind the hill.
As she
appeared
in pieces over the tips
of the grass
I heard the airy relief, breath of your whisper “there she is”
You said to yourself. As she turned down the hill toward us
with nothing in between.