I followed behind, a silent pursuit.
An infectious wind in her hair freedom.
Shiny patent leathers toes scampering over a glistening sidewalk,
slick with bits of slushy ice and rain.
Woolen tights embroidered with crimson and gold vines weaving up two legs of green,
a brilliant blur of color against a mossy fence.
Bright lime fleece jacket with cobalt piping and tangerine swirls,
the sleeves shielding what I imagined were pink-from-cold fingers.
The clacking of sole against sidewalk punctuated by exuberant squeals
Mama. I runnin. Briar’s a runnin’ ina street.
A dog bark. The whiz of stroller wheels on wet pavement behind me.
Stars overhead and bright golden moon to the east.
My eyes teared. It was cold. And perfect.
The flash of street light on patent leather.