Driving into Winter

Vision tunneled by crimson
autumn leaves and black
tar highway; counting
exit after exit. If I
speed, I might
catch her last breath.

Separated from my mother. Leaves
Shiver on frail branch.
I am unprepared for winter’s storm.

Motionless, between sterile sheets,
my mother, pale in face,
with bruised raccoon eyes.
I speed
to blow this leaf away.

Breaking security and through white coats,
fighting up
six flights of stairs.
Leaves gust off my frail branch

Panting in sync
to mother’s mechanical breath
Her sandy hair, now bare,
like autumn oak at winter.