We were strangers. I suspected she was younger
than me, but not much. My hair was grayer.
Heading home, I slid into my light jacket
against a wind stiff yet mild.
She sat in a OHSU wheelchair in a blue hospital robe.
Her left leg stuck out in front of her,
twice the size of her right, wrapped in tan bandaging
above inpatient-gray ankle slippers, the ones with plastic nubs
to prevent sliding.
A Coast Guard life-flight helicopter lowered overhead
toward the helipad. More wind.
Her fingers lifted her long brown hair
from under her collar and raked
it into the wind. Hair as long as mine.
I freed my hair from my coat, copying.
This tender wind caught my hair too.
Hair soaring as kites.
Strangers in flight.