Rowan plants his feet in the ground, his head reaches for the sky, everything is golden. Head in the clouds, one by one, Rowan tastes the stars. He likes berries for breakfast and acorns for lunch. For dinner, he’ll have them all.
Night after night Barbara watches the sky, memorising patterns of the stars. Should the sky ever fall, she would get stitching on her star quilt for us all.
When I stitched him on the left, he squirmed to the right, when I covered his bottom, his drooped his neck. I gave up and left him alone. Woody straightened his back, cast his eyes straight ahead. Then he wriggled to the fluttering birds and their song. Took me a long time tightening his threads […]