 The Falling Star
I saw a star slide down the sky,
Blinding the north as it went by,
Too burning and too quick to hold,
Too lovely to be bought or sold,
Good only to make wishes on
And then forever to be gone.
Sara Teasdale, 1884 - 1933
In the abandoned bird house lived a little golden haired fellow. When stars fell into the pound he pulled them out and dried them on the tree branches before releasing them back into the sky. There are so many falling stars on the suddenly chilly nights. |