Sequoia, once, when you were small
And just falling asleep, you said,
—Pa, you should’ve named me Starlight.
—A little late for that, I said.
We laughed, and I hugged you good night.
Later, I went out for a look
At the evening. I was thinking,
Sailors read starlight like a book,
And, on cloudless nights with no moon,
Desert starlight can cast a glow.
And all that light from far away,
From everywhere, throws no shadows.
I agree. Starlight’s a good name
For you—though Sequoia is, too.
An owlet in a giant tree
Lit by sparkling starlight, that’s you.
So. Happy Birthday, Starlight!
May your eyes always twinkle,
And may all your skies be bright.
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