They promise breezes cool and clean,
sweet dreams,
sweet cream simm’ring on the stove.

The earth is spinning oh-so-slow,
thinning sunbeams
fading in my shady grove.

A gentle cottage theme, I think,
is best to see them,
and I should know.

When the stars all come alive,
those witching gems,
those wish-giving things,
brilliant, dang’rous, soft as snow,
that is when my body thrives,
when the night around me starts to glow.