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.”
2 comments:
This is so poetic, thanks for sharing, Marsha!
I'm so glad you enjoyed it! Thanks for stopping by, Damyanti.
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