Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • You must have stolen all the clouds
    for we have none, only the reflection of the sun
    in crescent white set in the midst of stars so bright
    the street lights are not needed.

    Yet for all that brilliance,
    a bit of warmth would be a welcome
    price for clouds. Here, bitter cold enfolds,
    embraces and invades our souls,

    makes us shiver in the day
    when light should warm us.
    Our days are cruelly teased
    with icy winds that moan and shriek

    and wail like mournful banshee
    on a bleak and barren Scottish moor.

    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.