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.
Those darn mosquitoes!