Stars breathe their desire to tall grass below. They send a halo for the buffalo, a beacon for the boat. Is it their galaxy glow or the mystery of the moon that makes pearls from the deep shine so? There is a border of dust the darkness is clinging to. Oh, what a beautiful God Orion must know! And see the wheat in the wind, how it moves like water? Such beauty always plays tricks on me. I blink my eyes to see if I got this right.
Seeing stars at Real Toads