Poppy and the Fallen Star

Poppy found a star in the cabbage patch, and it was humming.

It was small, about as big as a teacup, and it glowed the yellow of butter. A little curl of steam rose off it.

"Oh," said Poppy. "You're not a cabbage."

"Hmmmm," said the star. It sounded sleepy and a bit sad.

Poppy knelt down in the wet grass. "Are you lost?"

"Hmmmm," said the star, and it wobbled toward the sky, but it only hopped an inch and plopped back down.

Poppy wanted to get it home. She knew that much. The star belonged up high with the others, and the night was getting darker.

First she tried the garden ladder. It only reached the top of the shed. The star hummed, still too low.

Next she tried the washing line. She hung the star in a sock and swung it round and round. The star went dizzy and gave a hiccup. "Hic!" A tiny spark flew out and landed on the watering can.

"Sorry," said Poppy. She put the star down gently. Then she sat on an upturned bucket, thinking hard.

Nearby, a snail was crossing the path on its way to the lettuces. It had its own business and did not stop. Its silver trail shone in the starlight, and it shone brightest right where the star's glow touched it.

Poppy looked at the trail. Then she looked at the star.

"You're glowing more when you're near wet things," she said. "Maybe you need a big wet thing."

She ran for the garden tap and filled the old tin bath until it was full to the brim. The water lay flat and still, like a mirror. She lifted the star in both hands and set it on top.

The star floated. It hummed, a little louder. Poppy leaned close and could see the whole sky in the water, the other stars all lit up and waiting.

"Hmmmm!" said the star, and it lifted off the water like a bubble. Up it rose, past the shed, past the apple tree, until it was just one more tiny light.

Poppy stood very still. The tin bath rippled once, then lay quiet, and a small yellow glow settled in the water.