here among the trees and roots,
where the pine needles greet the soles of my feet like old friends
and the clouded sun sighs into my skin,
the night feels complete with stars.
Stars I can see and count and swallow up
so when I return they’re still inside of me.
Stars that I can keep until I want to push them out
and burn them hotly against your skin
so you feel magnificent and small and important too.
They’re my stars, they’re your stars,
they’re our stars.