Star-struck

Walking the wandering woods,
A minstrel strode, humming,
Whistling a tune to the moon.
Nothing could harm him,
Careless he, from fear free,
Boldly thumping boots
O’er trees’ soil and roots.

Just humming a tune
To a new-strung verse
In the dark, when hark!
There! He heard a hiss
Through the mist – an arrow?
A bolt? A Faery?

Clutching hard his wooden mace,
He peered to the stars, the sky,
The tree-topped trunks and –
A falling star struck him in the face.