When No One Was Looking

Once, when no one was looking, I danced in the black night under a bright and playful moon. I had music in my ears, I had sprinted up the hill and around the neighborhood as fast as I could. I was warm and the length of my hair was cold. The stars were light trains hung by strings. Late summer. I could see no home lights on this silver of road pressed together by evergreen trees, and no one, I hoped, could see me. I was joy and supple and swimming my arms in cool night. I laughed at myself and started again. I told the moon thank you. I sprinted back down the hill with light touch toes and my arms and knees cut through possibility.