The Star in the Wet Grass

Poppy wanted to hold the star that had fallen into the garden, just for a moment, before it went back to the sky.

It sat in the wet grass by the beans, small and round as a button, glowing like a warm lamp. Poppy tiptoed up and reached out.

Roll, roll, roll. The star slid away across the lawn.

"Come back," said Poppy. She ran after it, and it rolled under the rhubarb leaves.

A hedgehog was already there, sniffing around for snails.

"Excuse me," said Poppy. "Have you seen a star?"

"I'm busy," said the hedgehog. "I'm looking for supper." And it snuffled off, not helping at all.

So Poppy tried again. This time she crept very slowly, one toe at a time. She nearly had it. But her trainers squeaked, and roll, roll, roll, the star was off again, past the shed and down towards the old beehive.

The beehive was humming its lullaby, the way it always did when the night got cold. Hmmmm, hmmm, hmmm.

Poppy sat down on an upside-down bucket, puffing. She watched the star bump along the path. It did not roll up. It did not roll sideways. It only ever rolled down.

"Oh," she whispered. "It's the slope."

Poppy took off her woolly hat. She ran round the long way and knelt at the bottom of the path, where the ground dipped, and held the hat open like a bowl.

Roll, roll, roll. Plip! The star dropped right into the wool.

It was warm as toast. Poppy held her breath.

Then the hive hummed a little louder, and the star began to hum along, very softly. It lifted out of the hat, light as a dandelion seed, and floated up past the shed roof.

Poppy stood with her empty hat in her hands. Over her head the small light climbed and climbed, and the hive went on humming under it, hmmmm, hmmm, hmmm, until the sky had gathered the star back in.