Creek Running North

I ran tonight the way you used to, fast
and quiet other than the slapping sound
of feet on pavement, ran like you’d have past
the shadows, each foot barely touching ground
and panting hard. In night, I run as though
you ran still by my side, peripheral
and fleeting flashes, come up from below
the soil to make our temporary whole.
The moon was out and silver, like it was
for us, and our exertions kept us warm,
steam off of skin. A sudden moonlit pause,
a void backlit by moon, familiar forms
scant feet away: The night deer’s placid stare
swept you from me, alone then, standing there.