A star feathered orchard:

The night stars have never near sobbed
Their hearts out; really, fully,
That is why..? The sun arises so happily
-Joyous with these songbirds, full of mirth.

See how the blackbird nestling, nearby
Sits gazing, outward, perceptively
Through her yellow rimmed eyes.
Eyes the centre of a yew tree berry
Tell of darker nights, still …defining…
A cat like localized, ochre—territory
Beneath; a gibbet halve hung moon.

Her melodious morning out-bursts
Become even more conspicuous…
When the autumn; fruits are rung.
As they plummet to the floor
Like Christmas, baubles, bruised
In that overbearing; …festive fall...

(She sings and sobs her heart out…)
At night they all perch together, guessing,
At what hazards the city holds for them..?
In a common, communal, brood:
They too are like sobbed out stars.