midnight metamorphosis

on the tarmac landed,

the wish fulfilled,

no longer hanging high,

with fellow stars and nebulea,

the fallen orb, retained somwhat,

the shape it held, thourgh ,

and light beams turn,

to hardened spikes,

quills to ward of malice,

failed they, to save the porcupine,

from a passing truck,

which saw not, the shining heart,

the constellations weep.