Falling Star by Heather Sager

The shabby house persists
in a dead town
and at night a crowd of elms
block the strong light
of moon and stars, shading
the house in sighing darkness.

A star falls from blue-black sky
and lands in the window,
casting a frosty glow of gentle
powder-blue light.

The door is off its hinges,
and no one can live here,
except the lowliest wanderer
who comes in on foot
after walking a hundred miles
under the gibbous moon.

Longing for a lost lover,
he finds this dilapidated home
fits him perfectly,
the little star in the window,
the inky darkness under elms,
from where the other residents have left,
sleep-walking.

Heather Sager lives in Illinois where she writes poetry and fiction. Her most recent poetry appears in Backwards Trajectory, ZiN Daily, The Closed Eye Open, Cosmic Daffodil, Corvus Review, Litbop, Magma, Spinozablue, and more journals.