Is It Ever Too Late To Make Amends?

Is it ever too late to say you’re sorry, to make amends, to repair the damage? That’s actually today’s theme but you have to keep reading to figure out where this is all going.

When I see these guys skateboarding together, it hits hard. It fills my heart with joy but it’s also bittersweet to realize that so much time has passed. Tick. Tock.

OG skater dad is his hero right now. The kids had no idea their teacher dad could skate.

Being well-rounded and balanced is important, right?

When the original Angel Boy wanted a skateboard, I weighed the pros and cons (cos it could be dangerous) and decided that it was a way to balance his intense interest in books and school, not that academic success wasn’t critical for his future, but skateboarding helped him feel “cool” and more relatable with schoolmates. It was about the only time his head wasn’t buried in a book.

As far back as elementary school, his nickname had been “the professor”, which was actually, happily, prophetic, but he enjoyed skating so much that we worked hard to get a skatepark built in our city and also created an Explorer Post to be eligible for donations which eventually funded the members on a state-wide skatepark trip, which was EPIC.

There was a skate shop near school where the kids would hang out and that’s where they met some of the famous skaters from SoCal: Danny Way, Hawk (of course), Sal Masekela, and Muska. Angel Boy even named his kitty after Muska.

It was a really nice time to be a kid, before our stupid little town ruined it all by rampant overdevelopment.

Here he is, nicely executing a flip. I can’t count the probably thousands of times this move had been practiced and failed and practiced again until he was proficient. What my mom brain sees in this photo is that he’s not wearing ANY protective gear. It’s a miracle he only ended up with one concussion and a couple of broken bones. No one wore helmets or knee/arm/wrist guards back then. What were we thinking?

The original Angel Boy

During high school, at the height of his interest in skating, we built a half-pipe in the backyard and our house was the cool place to be. I was kept busy supplying the kids with cookies and smoothies. #goodtimes #smothermother

Then there were many inevitable graduations and milestones; a doctorate and post-doc; an empty nest. The skate ramp was silent and began to deteriorate as it was never used nor maintained.

An executive decision was made to have it dismantled because it was in such poor, sad, unsafe shape.

At one point, when AB came home and saw it was gone, he was NOT at all happy. He felt that he hadn’t been included nor consulted in the conversation and not only was it a surprise, but I think it represented the end of a happy chapter in his life.

Actually, over the years I had explained to him a few times that he needed to help maintain it if he still wanted to use it, and like most things I said, he either didn’t listen (or ignored me), but in hindsight I agree that I could have been more sensitive. I guess I didn’t know how much it meant to him. It was an important rite of passage.

But I did something even worse…

I got rid of his skateboard! I didn’t do it with malice, honestly!

One day I was cleaning out the garage and thought it was never again going to be an activity he was interested in so I set it out near the street. I literally had no idea that he would ever want it for any reason; to ride or for the memories of all the fun he had skating OR to share with any future children…

But I was wrong…I was such a bad mom!

During a visit home, he asked for his skateboard because he wanted to show the kids some of his cool moves and when I told him I had put it out in the driveway and someone took it, he was SO ANGRY!

I fully understand that he felt betrayed and I felt horrible about it, especially since I’m known for never throwing anything away. Why that? I have no idea, but I did, I admit it.

I’ve been trying to make amends for the last twenty years. Yup, that was all about twenty years ago.

And now I’m offered the opportunity to make it right.

His clone, AB 2.0, is now obsessed with skateboarding!! He went to a skate camp this summer and got his very first real skateboard. Like all the sports he’s tried, he has some real talent, just like his dad. Watch out, Tony Hawk!

Is there anything more adorable than seeing a little guy all decked out in a helmet and safety gear, positioning himself to drop in? I think not.

Bad pic from a video AB 2.0

In this case, it’s not too late to make amends because I was finally able to replace AB’s sk8board and that feels good.

I did it. I made amends. I bought the skateboard; I made the necessary reparations and repaired the bad mom damage.

Even better, I was able to watch those guys skate together which is such a mom/grandma moment. Heart is bursting with love!

(And hopefully, Dad WILL wear his helmet at all times, or I’ll hear about it when the kids call me to tattle on him.)

Sometimes it’s not too late. All is takes is the honest willingness to want to make things right, even two decades later.

Word of The Day: Quiddity

It’s been a while since I posted about interesting and often archaic words that contribute to a fuller, richer vocabulary. Even though it’s been less than a year since that orange POS somehow took power, this country has turned into a shitshow of one horrible event after another and that seems to eclipse any sense of normalcy. 

Anyway…here’s one that’s quirky and will hopefully take our minds off this ugly reality for a minute or two.

Quiddity is such a great word: it’s the essence or unique nature that makes something the kind of thing it is and makes it different from any other.

Vague and not vague at the same time — I can sort of comprehend it only if I don’t allow my brain to delve too deeply into the intricacies of the meaning because then it becomes overwhelming and my mind takes off onto strange and faraway little tributaries. Sometimes it’s best not to overthink things.

From Shakespeare’s Hamlet, “Where be his quiddities now…?

To me: “Her passion for Leon Russell’s music is as much a quiddity as her curly hair.”

More examples:

“Many people share the quiddity of dipping their fries into their milkshakes.” which is a waste of a good milkshake and a good french fry.

For there is no knowledge of things insofar as they are external in effect, but insofar as their nature and quiddity is grasped by the mind.

When a politician avoids answering a question while pretending to answer it, he often does it using quiddity, or by bringing up irrelevant and distracting points.

Quiddity is a usefully sneaky tool if you want to evade an argument or question, and it’s often used by people like lawyers in court and teenagers angling for later curfews.

The noun quiddity has a philosophical meaning too, “the essential nature of something,” or the unique thing that makes it what it is. The Medieval Latin root, quidditas, translates literally as “whatness.”

I think we all need to incorporate quiddity into our daily language, written and verbal, don’t you?

Featured image from Pinterest

I Am Feral

Today’s mood…

In my mind I am always the feral woman wearing a white nightdress with a mud-stained hem and twigs in my hair, running through a forest bathed in moonlight, screeching along with the owls and foxes.

Unknown, curated from She’s Magic & Midnight Lace
Image from Pinterest

Medievil Hummus Recipe

Enough ugly reality; now we’re back to our regularly scheduled programming of avoidant, happy posts

This isn’t the smooth, creamy dip we know today, but a rustic, nutty dish called Himmas Kassa from a recipe preserved in a medieval 14th-century Egyptian cookbook.

The marriage of ingredients elevates the humble chickpea into a dish worthy of royalty. I’ll definitely make it for Thanksgiving this year.

This is my very own, very basic Hummus Recipe. It’s SO easy! https://enchantedseashells.com/2023/06/14/zesty-veggie-hummus-vegan-pinwheels/

Instead of blended until silky smooth, Himmas Kassa was coarse, full of texture, and mixed with walnuts, fresh herbs, and spices like cinnamon, ginger, and caraway. It was served at banquets as one of the opening courses, to showcase the host’s refinement and generosity.

Recipe

  • 1 cup boiled chickpeas
  • 2 tablespoons tahini stirred with 2 tablespoons water and 2 tablespoons wine vinegar
  • ¼ cup finely ground walnuts stirred with 2 tablespoons lemon juice and 1 teaspoon wine vinegar
  • ½ cup chopped parsley
  • ¼ cup chopped mint
  • 3 tablespoons olive oil
  • ¼ teaspoon each of caraway coriander, black pepper, ginger, and cinnamon, all crushed
  • ½ teaspoon salt
  • For garnish: olive oil, olives, chopped pistachios

Instructions 

  • In a mixing bowl, mash the boiled chickpeas until they form a coarse paste.
  • Stir in the tahini mixture and the walnut mixture until combined.
  • Fold in the parsley, mint, olive oil, and spices. Taste and adjust salt as needed.
  • Transfer to a shallow serving dish. Garnish with olive oil, olives, and pistachios.
  • Serve with flatbread, pita, or crackers. Also delicious spread on tortillas.
  • I’d also serve with carrot sticks and cucumbers, sliced apples and jicama.

https://eatshistory.com/medieval-hummus-recipe-one-of-the-first-recorded-recipes-himmas-kassa/

Featured image courtesy of Pinterest

The Elephant In The Room

I would much rather write about my angst with garden bunnies who destroyed my lawn and post photos of birds and butterflies or continue my passionate obsession with the musical genius of Leon Russell than deal with harsh realities but the elephant in the room is stomping her feet and demands to be heard, so here’s a little something about what’s going on in the (not very) United States.

I haven’t watched the news since Election Day. I mean, what’s the point? I still can’t understand how any of this happened, how we’re enduring this hellscape government like we’re stuck inside of a bad futuristic sci-fi film.

Still, even without the doomnews reports every five minutes, it’s hard NOT to know about all of the senseless violence in every corner of our country, including the recent death of a certain divisive agitator podcaster. I actually had no idea who Kirk even was, but social media was quite informative. His doctrine included stances against LGBTQ+ rights, diversity initiatives, climate change action, and mask mandates during the COVID-19 pandemic. He often made seriously ugly racist remarks that I won’t repeat. He promoted evangelical christian beliefs and argued against the separation of church and state. He once said  “I can’t stand the word empathy, actually. I think empathy is a made-up, new age term that — it does a lot of damage.”

What’s even more spine-chilling is that he had any followers at all. I fear for our children and grandchildren. Hate is pervasive. The US is not a nice place to live right now.

And this at an event organized by TPUSA Faith, “I think it’s worth it to have a cost of, unfortunately, some gun deaths every single year so that we can have the second amendment to protect our other God-given rights. That is a prudent deal. It is rational.” (From The Guardian)

Ironic, right?

I also think it’s vital to point out that Kirk was a podcaster and an influence peddler, NOT an elected US official, and certainly not a martyr. Any state services or funding for his funeral or other expenses are a gigantic misuse of taxpayer money. According to Occupy Democrats, his estate is worth at least twelve million. To put it in perspective, all the children who were victims of gun violence did not receive the same consideration.

These words are from A Mighty Girl, who seems to say it all, better than I could:

Today’s fatal shooting of Charlie Kirk at Utah Valley University comes just three months after Minnesota House Speaker Emerita Melissa Hortman was assassinated in her home — two leaders from different parties and opposing ideological perspectives, both silenced by acts of political violence.

Kirk, the 31-year-old founder of Turning Point USA, was shot and killed while speaking at an event in Orem, Utah, while Hortman, a 55-year-old Democratic leader of the Minnesota House, was assassinated alongside her husband Mark in a politically motivated attack by a far-right extremist on June 14.

The fatal shootings of Hortman and Kirk, a legislative leader and a political activist, are a stark reminder of how dangerous extremism and political animosity can become when left unchecked.

Kirk was addressing a crowd at his “American Comeback Tour” event when he was killed. The right-wing political activist, whose organization promoted conservative politics on college campuses, had become one of the most prominent voices in the conservative youth movement.

Three months earlier, Vance Boelter, a far-right extremist disguised as a law enforcement officer, killed Representative Hortman and her husband, and seriously wounded State Senator John Hoffman and his wife Yvette. Authorities found a list in Boelter’s vehicle containing nearly 70 potential targets, including abortion providers and Democratic lawmakers across multiple states. Both victims, Kirk and Hortman, represented the diverse range of political leaders now under threat.

The scope of this crisis cannot be ignored. According to the Center for Strategic and International Studies, between 2016 and 2025, there were 25 attacks and threats targeting elected officials, political candidates, judges and government employees that were motivated by partisan beliefs. For comparison, only two such incidents were reported in the two previous decades. The increase in partisan attacks spans the ideological spectrum but has done little to lower the temperature in political rhetoric.

Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro, a Democrat whose home was attacked and set ablaze in April while his family slept inside, condemned today’s tragedy in unequivocal terms: “Political violence has no place in our country. We must speak with moral clarity. The attack on Charlie Kirk is horrifying and this growing type of unconscionable violence cannot be allowed in our society”.

The words and actions of our political leaders in the coming days will prove consequential. Lilliana Mason, Professor of Political Science at Johns Hopkins University and co-author of “Radical American Partisanship: Mapping Violent Hostility, Its Causes, and the Consequences for Democracy,” warns that how leaders respond to these attacks will determine whether violence escalates or subsides.

Yet even as leaders call for unity, the challenge remains addressing the rhetoric that experts say fuels such violence.

trump has referred to political opponents as “vermin” that needed to be “[rooted] out”; called judges “monsters”; and, in a Memorial Day social media post, described those Americans who oppose his policies as “scum” and accused them of “trying to destroy our country.” Trump’s highly charged language explicitly demonizes his political opponents such as when he described them last October as an “enemy from within” that is “more dangerous than China, Russia, and all those countries.”

His aggressive, divisive, and dehumanizing rhetoric toward those who disagree with him — often labelling them as “enemies” and “traitors” — is viewed by many experts as inflaming such extremism and contributing to the normalization of political violence. An analysis of Trump’s speeches over the past ten years by UCLA political scientists found that not only has his use of violent language increased over time but that it surpassed that of nearly all other politicians studied from democratic countries.

In addition to his often extremist rhetoric, Trump has demonstrated a willingness to absolve acts of physical violence to advance his political interests. In a deeply troubling indication of his priorities, Trump made pardoning the January 6 attackers one of his very first acts upon returning to office. On his first day in office, Trump granted full pardons to all those convicted in the January 6 attack, over 1,500 rioters in total, including the 123 individuals charged with using a deadly or dangerous weapon or causing serious bodily injury to a police officer.

Equally concerning is how political violence, once unleashed, can become a pretext for authoritarian overreach. History shows that leaders with autocratic tendencies often exploit acts of political violence to justify crackdowns on civil liberties, suppress dissent, and consolidate power. From the Reichstag Fire that enabled Hitler’s rise to emergency powers, to modern strongmen who use security threats to silence opposition and restrict press freedoms, political violence creates a cycle where democratic norms erode from both ends.

A recent study by political scientist James Piazza found that countries where politicians used hate speech ‘often’ or ‘extremely often’ experienced an average of 107.9 domestic terrorist attacks compared to just 12.5 attacks in countries where politicians rarely used such language. Republican lawmakers have largely remained silent about or defended such rhetoric, despite warnings from security experts about its potential to inspire violence.

As individuals and as a nation, our “task now is to not let the people at the extremes pull the rest of us over the edge with them,” Dr. Garen Wintemute, the director of the Violence Prevention Research Program at UC Davis, urged in an interview today. “We need to make our rejection of political violence clear.”

We wish strength and healing for Representative Melissa Hortman’s two children who lost both parents just three months ago.

I just saw this open letter from the 50501 Movement and it’s too brilliant not to share:

Dear MAGA,

Why are you still so mad? You got what you wanted, remember? Trump back in office, no more “mean tweets” from Biden, and enough guns on the street to outfit a small army. Congratulations, mission accomplished.

You keep yelling about Biden like he’s still haunting you, but wasn’t the whole point to replace him? You still have your precious guns, even as shootings pile up like unpaid bills. When the Minnesota senators were gunned down, you couldn’t even admit the shooter was a far-right Christian nationalist. Instead, you spun excuses and conspiracies — and a sitting senator even posted something vile about it, with zero reprimand. Trump didn’t even bother to call Governor Walz. That’s your “law and order” president.

And let’s not forget your other golden boy, Charlie Kirk. He said empathy is weakness and shootings are just the “price of freedom.” Those were his words. Yet today, after he was killed, suddenly it’s outrage, grief, and endless demands for sympathy. And who announced his death? Trump. Not the family. Not officials. Trump, center stage again, making it about himself. So which is it? Why the tantrum? Why scream when people protest? Shouldn’t this be, by your own logic, the kind of thing you shrug off, maybe even laugh about like the “snowflakes” crying in the street?

You love to chant “law and order,” but under your hero, crime and political violence are worse. You rail about “Bidenflation,” but prices didn’t magically drop when Trump took over again. You brag about being the “party of God,” but your leaders mock empathy, sneer at compassion, and worship money like it’s a sacrament. And you laugh at “snowflakes,” while turning victimhood into your entire political identity.

Meanwhile, Epstein files keep spilling out, and surprise Trump’s name lingers like a bad smell. Gaza is bleeding, 18,000 kids dead, but hey, maybe there’ll be a shiny new Trump Tower in Palestine (satire he hasn’t announced this, but you know it’s the only thing he’d care about). Putin’s bombing Poland, but relax you’ll either call it “fake news” or say NATO had it coming. And here at home, the National Guard is deployed in the streets like a permanent prop the same militarization you claimed to hate when it wasn’t your guy in charge.

And since you love “tradition,” maybe you’re quietly thrilled we’re back to experimenting on Black bodies again (rhetorical framing referring to the real case of Adriana Smith in Georgia, kept alive on machines to deliver her baby). Her son Chance, barely five pounds, is fighting for survival while her family is forced to grieve in public. Freedom for you, exploitation for everyone else.

So again… why are you so mad? Isn’t this the America you ordered off the menu? You broke it, you bought it.

Sincerely,
The rest of us living in the wreckage

When The Towers Fell – September 11

I don’t approve of using animals in war or police work. I think it’s cruel to send dogs and horses in harm’s way, especially since these sentient beings don’t have the ability to consent — decision-making capacity –and are merely used as expendable, cheap fodder. In my opinion, that’s clearly abusive.

However, the rescue dogs who searched for victims of the 9/11 attacks saved many lives and then took on the task of providing therapy to survivors.

On September 11, 2001, when the towers fell and the sky turned to ash, more than 300 search and rescue dogs stepped into hell on earth. They didn’t hesitate. They didn’t flinch. They climbed through fire and steel, through suffocating debris and deafening silence, searching for life with every breath, every pawstep, every heartbeat.

They entered with pure hearts and fearless resolve—no armor, no agenda, just the unshakable instinct to help. They worked until their pads split, until the air burned their lungs, until their handlers broke down and hope ran dry. And still, they kept going. Because that’s what heroes do.

When the searching stopped, the therapy dogs arrived. Quiet. Steady. Healing. They didn’t need words. They curled beside the broken, leaned into the grief, and reminded shattered humans that love hadn’t died in the dust.

These beautiful dogs didn’t just serve. They bore the weight of our sorrow. They carried our hope. They were the silent saints of Ground Zero—unspoken, unshaken, unforgettable.

We don’t just remember them. We thank them. For their courage. For their comfort. For showing us, in our darkest hours, what selfless devotion truly looks like.

To the hero dogs of 9/11: your legacy lives on in every rescue, every comfort, every life saved because you showed up when it mattered most. Curated from houndsinpounds.org

Note To Parents Who Pick Up Their Children From School

STOP ACTING LIKE ENTITLED A-HOLES!

This afternoon I took out the trash as school was being dismissed (I live near an elementary school), and at the same time, the postman drove up to deliver the mail.

Mostly blocking my driveway was a gigantic SUV which meant the postman literally had to stop in the middle of the street which is where I met him so he wouldn’t have to leave his vehicle.

The SUV’s back gate was open, as well as all the doors, apparently because the parents decided it was a good time to clean out their gas-guzzling monstrosity.

I said to them, “Why don’t you pull up? You’re blocking my driveway and you have plenty of room in front of you.”

The mom (I guess it was the mom) said, “We’re just here to pick up our kids from school”, as if that information was at all relevant or important to me. (Which it was NOT.)

I said, “How is that my concern? You still can’t block anyone’s driveway. Move your car.” (I’m assertive like that.😀)

And so they did. You could tell they thought about arguing with me and/or defying my directive, but the postman was a witness, so they grudgingly pulled up a few feet.

But it begs the bigger question about entitlement, consideration, and basic courtesy. No wonder the kids in my town feel they can recklessly — and without regard for anyone else–ride their stupid ebikes in the middle of the street defying all traffic and safety rules when they have annoying parents like this who feel so narcissistically privileged that they’re entitled to encroach on one’s property and then don the victim cape when they’re told to move. How RUDE!

There’s lots of conversations lately about entitled people. Entitled people believe they are inherently deserving of special treatment without considering others.

For example, why should I, a complete stranger, care one iota about whether they’re picking up their kids from school as if that should somehow ameliorate or excuse the action of blocking MY driveway? Not my kids, not my problem, especially when they could have simply checked before they stopped and pulled up a few more feet. They had plenty of room.

In fact, a vehicle cannot legally park directly in front of or across someone’s driveway in California, as it is a violation of California Vehicle Code 22500. One can contact local parking enforcement or the police department to have the vehicle ticketed and towed at the owner’s expense. 

I have no patience for these types of selfish people who think the world revolves around them in their egocentric illusion balloon. An egocentric illusion refers to the psychological bias where individuals perceive the world, their internal states, and their actions from a self-centered perspective.

I was more than happy to burst that balloon for them. Perhaps they’ll be more considerate in the future, wherever they park, hopefully not here. Maybe I’ll get a sign like this if it happens again.

Photo from Google. Not my house, but same situation.

Stop acting like entitled a-holes and model decent behavior to your children! Is that too much to ask?

Full Corn Moon

Every full moon in September, this song comes to mind…

Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon
Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned?
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?

–Colors of The Wind from the film, Pocahontas

September’s full moon is special because it’s accompanied by a total lunar eclipse. Sadly, I don’t think we’ll be able to experience the eclipse here in the States but we might observe the moon’s deep reddish hue; not blue, though.

We are reminded to connect with themes of gratitude, release, and harvest by writing down what we’re thankful for and what we want to let go of, and by creating a gratitude chart. As always, this is a great time to charge crystals under the light energy of this full moon.

Featured image by Enchanted Seashells


Earworm, Courtesy of Leon Russell

Because both of the Angel Kids’ eyes literally roll back in their heads when I make them listen to Leon Russell music, I found a slightly obscure song called “Too Much Monkey Business”. It’s more spoken than sung, like a precursor to rap music, and was written by Chuck Berry in 1956.

I played it and the Angels started singing along, as it’s a very catchy tune. I’d call out “How much monkey business” and they’d respond, “Too much monkey business!”

This song is totally earworm-worthy because they couldn’t stop singing it to themselves. All day long, during breakfast and helping to organize their books so we could donate some, I heard them quietly repeat “too much monkey business”, or “too much for me to be involved in.”

I said, “Cool song, huh?” as I planned my final move in my neverending quest to make them love Leon as much as I do.

When we sat on the sofa together after dinner playing card games, I asked Siri to play “Too Much Monkey Business” by Leon Russell and AB said, “Wait, that was LEON? It didn’t sound like him!” I replied, “That was my little joke. You had no idea you were singing one of his songs hahahahaha!”

Too late to stop it from happening; the lyrics are firmly embedded in their brains. They changed the words to: “How much Grandma business?” and “Too much Grandma business.”

They grudgingly agreed it was GOOD but asked me to pleasepleaseplease stop dancing because I was embarrassing them. I can only imagine the many ways I’ll be an embarrassment when they’re teenagers. It’s a rite of passage. They can ask their dad for confirmation.

Those kids are uber funny but I won. They’re now listening to and appreciating the Master of Space and Time–in spite of themselves. My work here is done.

Runnin’ to and fro, hard workin’ at the mill
Never failed in the mail, yet come a rotten bill
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

Salesman talking to me tryin’ to run me up a creek
Say, “You can buy it, go on, try it, you can pay me next week” ah
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

Blonde-haired, good lookin’ tryin’ to get me hooked
Want me to marry, get a home, settle down, write a book, ha
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

Same thing every day, gettin’ up, goin’ to school
No need to be complainin’, my objections overruled, ah
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

Payphone, somethin’ wrong, dime gone, will mail
I ought to sue the operator for tellin’ me a tale, ah
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

I been to Yokohama, been fightin’ in the war
Army bunk, army chow, army clothes, army car, ah
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

Workin’ in the fillin’ station, too many tasks
Wipe the windows, check the tires, check the oil, dollar gas, ah
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
I don’t want your botheration, get away, leave me be

Too much monkey business for me

Star’s Twinkle

I don’t think I ever knew there were more verses. I’m not sure if this is the original or if someone added to it, but it’s lovely.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are,
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.

When the blazing sun is set,
And the grass with dew is wet,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

Then the traveler in the dark
Thanks you for your tiny spark,
He could not see where to go
If you did not twinkle so.

In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye
Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveler in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

The Star by Jane Taylor
Art from Pinterest