(for Dick and Alison, good neighbors)

Now you, who were accompanied
by friends on your first slow meanders
after the hospital,

accompany your next-door neighbor
as she, post-rehab, with repaired hip
and walker, negotiates the road

you have both driven and walked
countless times in your tenure
as shared-wall condo dwellers.

Both of you older, of course,
both of you partly bionic thanks
to space-age medical science,

and I, just a tad younger,
watch as you slow to her
turtle pace, as she powers

through the pain, healing
taking place in more ways
than one. Each day a little

faster, a little farther.
Miracles aplenty—not least
that despite so much brokenness,

you rose again, and so did she,
that you’re both still here,
walking through the world,

a giant leap in each small step.