"Stiff and stark sat the child – frozen to death, there with her matches, of which one bundle had been burnt. 'She wanted to warm herself,' people said."Hans Christian Anderson, "The Little Match Girl"
Stars, falling thick as snowflakes, keep company with the cold of night. Like a candle wick, all spark and fizz, they clamor for air, for space, and breath. Touching the muddy-sweet wetness< of earth, their lovely, hissing, sibilant language is known only to those who see them fall – and feel the cold heat of their desire.