A constellation landed on my ankles

this weekend under the stars.

An evening walk to the spring’s shore.

A beautiful night filled with a brilliant show,

Twinkling lights and satellites abound,

Even a few shooting stars to astound.

But as I crawled back into the tent,

The sensation started to set in,

Itching and scratching soon followed,

and now days later, the marks remain.

What should I call them I wonder,

what would they be if I connected the dots?

A horse running across the field,

and mountains on the other side,

Maybe just figments of my imagination

running away with me until

my ankles have time to heal.

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Those darn mosquitoes!