Gazelle, your mother’s treasures have marked you.

Her prudence files your uncalloused hooves;

her outlook lengthens your hindsight;

her patience cambers your spine, bows your head.

Regard her alert, the twitch in your ear —

and you’ll feel the earth pulsate under you.

her emerald stretches, quivering soil,

your sudden still: you, a mindful frame. You

feel him encroach and your mother’s warnings

flex your hind legs, counting down your spring.