Tonight, I will go to bed full,

my heart gorged in sweet tea and

lit by tendrils of fire that escaped the pit

and landed in my soul.

 

But for now, I’ll sit here half awake,

beneath a moth light

I pretend is the North Star.

 

Tomorrow, I’ll dance amidst

wildflowers, relishing the cool grip

of wind as it whooshes past me,

rattling trees for miles.

 

For now, I’ll eat this slop,

and endure the frozen ground

that found its way beneath my back

and into my soul.

 

Next week, I’ll circle the globe,

relishing the South African sun,

dipping my toes in a cool Pacific swell,

burning my tongue on Mexican hot chocolate,

made the right way.

 

For now, I will wish away frostbitten toes

and try to turn a bed of wood chips

into a cozy place to rest my weary head.

 

A year from now, I’ll stroll through a grove

of weeping willows, hand in hand with the world,

all of us safe, all of us joyous,

all of us breathing.

 

But for now, I’ll close my eyes

and set sail, leaving my soul to the wind,

drifting to a place untainted by

the gleam of prying eyes.

And there’s no place I’d rather be.