Feeling sad and small with tightly wound muscles, in balled fists
I lumber to the backyard.
The itch of my cage tickles the lungs as I slurp the cold march night.
My small yard hushes the creatures announcing my presance.
The wind tosses empty trees,
cracking the branches like drumsticks.
Above me the sky fully lit with the silvery lights,
stars so old they speak no words.

I find a small dim speck, precious.
I name her Sylvia, sweet Sylvia star.
I watch her twinkle, nestled in her corner of the sky, shinning.
Sylvia begins to swell with glow, and then slowly fade.
Her tiny sliver frame swallowed by the night.
Her long life burning out.
I smile up, silently thanking the universe for giving life.
as I smile at the star, sinking into the deepest pool,
the black well of Mother night.
Goodbye my star,
sleep tight.