Falling

Walking around the village in the early night time and the sky is hushed and still, alive with quiet stars. Late moonrise makes the world dark, and distant dog bark echoes in the stillness. Across the fields the sea sways into shore on muted waves. An owl hunts along the hedgebanks. In the sky something burns bright and then begins to fall and as it falls to fade but so slow like the longest slow falling star wish. I watch,  awestruck by this slow decline from light to dark. I forget to wish. Maybe.