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.