Before the Sky Changes It’s Mind

One star held fast to the sky. I stood barefoot in the backyard, the grass slick with cold, the earth breathing through the soles of my feet. 

The other stars agreed to move on. The moon slipped away without comment. 

Morning pressed its pale hand against the sky, soft but insistent. Trees lifted into their shapes, birds tested the air. 

The star didn’t. It made no apology for staying. It held its light, refusing to vanish on schedule, a small bright argument against the sky changing its mind.

My heart leaned forward. 

When the star finally faded, it didn’t fall. It dissolved into the blue. 

I stayed, feet cold, spine straight, heart lit. Not finished yet.

I’ll choose when to stop being seen.  

Lynne Curry