Where are the stars,
do you see them?

Walking out of the sky
on their long stilts.

Each star wants to be
its own sound,
but it's crowded, too
noisy up there.

They fall down,
they tinkle,
they speak.

Each star tells you its story,
invites you over
for the evening.

One star,
two stars,
three stars.

The spaces between them
is the story, those black parts.

You make the words,
you string those stars together,
you can ride
like on a swinging bracelet.

The spaces between them are imaginary.

The stars got together
with all their jewels
in the sky.

so many jewels, each star
holding out its own hand,
holding out its own star

like a lantern.

The desert such a dark place,
the stars snuck down
with their words
into those dark places,

snuck inside those cricket bodies
like a laugh.

Got your ears
to make that sound with?

They went into the black
body of the earth
and thought the crickets' thoughts.

It's hard to be a night in the desert
without the crickets.

They went into those crickets' throats.

You make it with stars
you make it with the skin
of the desert night.

You stitch those two together,
sky and earth.

You find it with
your cricket voice.

by Norbert Ruebsaat