Stargazer

She moves slow —

but her thoughts,

they fly.

Across mossy logs,

over pondshine and pebble,

to the hill she knows best —

the one that listens.

Every night,

when frogs fall silent

and the crickets hum low,

she climbs.

Not fast.

Not gracefully.

But with the certainty

of someone who has time.

And at the top,

she turns her head skyward,

tilts her shell just so,

and breathes.

Because the stars don’t rush.

The moon never forgets her.

And the darkness —

is never cruel,

only quiet.

She doesn’t wish

to be a bird,

or a fox,

or a flame.

Just a turtle,

watching the universe unfold

one shimmer at a time.

And if anyone asks

what she’s looking for,

she’ll say:

“Nothing. I just like

when the stars stay.”