Fahrenheit Open Mic Sunday
She wasn’t sure of the direction
the ground was wet dirt, uneven patches of grass.
She tries to take a direct route
avoiding the winding concrete path
searching constellations.
She follows the phases of the moon.
Looking up, she’s lost in the woods
getting snagged by bramble, trudging through the thicket
her destination uncertain.
Holding her breath
searching the night sky
she travels.
Finds a clearing, builds a simple shelter
lays her head on the earth.
Dreams she is floating with stars.