She glares down on a quiet street. Asphalt glitters with scarlet specks. A teenager stops peddling and stares at the half-dark moon. A hare scurries down into a burrow. A seedling breaks through a crack in the concrete. Its first taste of light is red.
The teen’s phone buzzes. Worried parents. She sighs, clambers back onto her bike, and sails back into the night. The hare waits for her peddling to recede before venturing out into the night again. She sniffs at a fresh bud in the street. Not quite ripe. She moves on.
A shadow inches across the moon’s face. The red deepens, then fades away. The seedling’s second taste is that of pure, full moonlight.
Corey Laisure 