we are all stars all the way to the end.
or hearts or moons
or whatever shape we've chosen
an early small moment for the sun, pushing its way past the clouds; just a bit of brightness and then gone again. my front door is open to the november wind and leaves are scattering across the living room floor; the yard is covered with crescent moons fallen to earth, golden golden, the sun still behind those clouds, the sky pale gray, i'd planned to clean, planned to clear some space for christmas at my house this year, but when i move the furniture, it blocks the light, so things are back to their normal places with space left over for a tree. it's sunday, and like i said, the front door is open, and windows also, the heat off, leaves flying, squirrels chattering, and i just stepped over a star on the way to the kitchen. small and brown, but a star still.