Unicorn in Clearing

Lit Up — November’s Prompt: 55er

Your finger crosses your lips. “Quiet. I’m searching for unicorns.”
Our legs dangle beneath the solid, ancient oak limb.
Bluestem grass reaches to brush our shoes’ soles
sturdy fortress, unbending. The green leaves camouflage
our faces. Part the leaves. Peek.
Ethereal girl brushes her horse.
“Unicorn!” Your voice breathless.
It startles her.
Her horn
unfurls.