The Call of the Stars

The stars hold a magic charm for me. They seem to call me from their beds in the inky darkness; lure me with their sparkling. The Autumn nights aren’t chilly yet. I lie awake and think. Then, by chance my gaze rests on the stars for the splitedest moment and they beckon. I try to resist but I can’t. I try to appease by staring at them through the open window, but they will not be silenced. Their call rings in my ears and mesmerizes my eyes until I answer the call. I step out of my bed and pull on my boots. I wander outside and yes, they are satisfied. They have me in their clutches now. They steal my thoughts from my mind and I imagine. I dream. Without my direction, my boots begin to move down the road. I stop when I hear the brumbies in the paddock next door, munching on the tender grass. I squint and try to see them in the dark. I succeed for a moment but the stars are jealous of my attention. I am laid on my back on the gravelly road and stare up into the sprinkled darkness. I lay there, absorbed. Until I realise that the sandy gravel is sticking to my shoulder-blades. I rise and brush myself off. Reluctantly the stars give my thoughts back and I begin to head back to bed. Pausing at the door I kiss the stars goodnight and return to the prison of walls and roof.

Now I lay in bed. I cannot sleep. The stars have not yet fully released me. They still whisper to me from the open window and I cannot help but listen to their lullabies. They take me places I’ve never been before and I follow. They hold me a willing captive. The stars have  a delightful clutch on my sentimentalities. How did I ever survive without the stars? 

The stars shine down in their sparklings from the deep inky blackness. They call to me in a voice that cannot be ignored.