I run past the edge of town towards the last stretch of uneven paved roads
a familiar emptiness swallows the sun-bleached fields 
and the moment my toes lose the blacktop and tap loose dirt 
I change course to avoid the dust rising to meet my breath.
I stomp heat-fed crabgrass–
each blade crisping, crunching, whisping behind me
longer pieces slice my ankles, creating razor-sharp reminders that I am not alone

The miles pass with ease as the sun stretches across the morning sky
I watch cows graze, their tails swatting flies that follow on instinct
and I wonder when I last followed something or someone with my own intuition?

My heart and mind synchronize when I find a natural rhythm,
the trail unrolls itself behind me as sweat droplets fall from my body like fairy-tale breadcrumbs that I fear will evaporate and erase my navigable path home.
I drop my head when the wind attempts to blow away those precious paper towns
I create on invisible maps I keep in my pocket to mark my own safe harbors

These moments pass as my legs kick faster,
signaling to my heart that the inner compass is not broken, but muted:

Listen.
Feel.
Trust.

The magnetic attraction intensifies, pulling me closer to myself
back where the pavement and the dirt meet,
where man-made hardness touches softer, stronger natural ground–
a ground which I long to stand as I become
the blade of grass defying all in the space between.