Yesterday at dusk, I saw this row of new moons peaking out from behind the edge of a rain cloud.
They whispered among themselves, probably thinking I couldn’t see them. After all, I’m just an ordinary human, and flashes of lightning can cause momentary blindness.
Oblivious to the downpour, I ran out into the yard and glared at them.
They ducked behind the cloud, but I could still hear their skuffle, and a low voice said, “Hang on, bros, ‘cause this wind tonight, it’s a rebel, out of control and taking our cloud on a fast track.”
“How wonderful—I’ve always wanted to see the rest of the world, and now I won’t have to wait until my month comes up,” a higher pitch voice squeaked.
I waved my arms and yelled, “You up there, whoever’s turn is next, will you please, please stop these evening storms? I’d like to see the sun set once this week.”
I continued my barrage until, finally, a slip of a moon, bright yellow against the inky sky, darted out…no, was kicked out by the crescent points of three others. Trembling, he said, “Forgive me, I’m late and new on the job.”