EARTH STARS
Stars fall to earth, call us
to play at evening’s dusk.
My brother and I race,
Skippy jars in hand,
their lids pierced with holes
and grass for the star’s nest.
The earth is hot through our sneakers
the pines hold their breath.
When I catch one, it is not hurt
But tickles my hand.
“I’ve more than you,” he says.
We always fight
For the biggest and best,
Count the jimmies on our cones.
The victor gloats.
The loser plots revenge.
“Bedtime,” My mother calls.
I carry my flickering jar,
set it by my bed.
If they would light at the same time,
I could read by their light.
Tomorrow night, I’ll catch more.
In the morning little bodies
Dot the grass.
I flick my nail against the glass.
Nothing.
Maybe stars should stay in the sky.
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