The reds and yellows of her summer blouse
catch the eyes of the breakfasting guests,
“Did you see that woman, her wheelchair
wheels lean in! She’s really fast!”
She waves one hand and then the other,
and her voice clearly settles gentle prods
on the boy’s run, his steps and starts,
mostly jumps into changes in the chase.
There again, her arms pump and she waves
to him, his feet barely touch the ground.
The two of them, new legs, unworkable legs,
exhilaration curving around trees, then straight away,
A basket of laundry on her lap awakens double takes.
The under view of the chair has just enough
space for faith in direction, room for bounce steps,
paws and a shag tail, wheels and legs
for any haul, looking one to the other, the travelers
here, to a playground, slow circles at the garden,
colors edged in sunlight, the leash, the blouse,
sneakers and collar, her hair flies at table height,
everything of why, nothing of why not.