HOMEPAGE Welcome One & All to I Rumpus ~

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HERE you meet RumpusWriter
through LULLABYE TALES     http://rumpusart.blogspot.com/

These original Stories are illustrated with line drawings, painted or collaged.

http://rumpusart.blogspot.com/

 is the HOME page for RumpusWriter's LULLABYE TALES.

also~

when you link to EYE Rumpus!

you will find images...with plenty of power...

and so much more~

 http://irumpus.blogspot.com/

is the HOME page for RumpusWriter's COMIX  

& for RumpusWriter's Colorscapes: 

ALL Emotion ~laid out in color & shadow...without explanation.

 also~

CHARACTERS SEEKING CONTEXT seek you!

Rumpus Writer encourages YOU to access these drawings

on the facebok album link provided here:

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You are invited to add your own caption to share ~ have fun with it

also~

Coming soon:

LINKS to

LifeTales:

Essays pondering more adult themes

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Moonboy

  

Crawdad

Crawdad
 There was a crawdad who lived in the many holes of a large shelf of solid rock where the water flowed over the top. This huge, rocky ledge was in the bend of the river as it left the mountains heading out to sea. When there was lots of water it was a waterfall. When the water was low there were only many little pools where rocks had rolled and drilled in the water - grindy grindy carving out hidey-holes for crawdads and little fish.
 It was winter when the crawdad felt sleepy and curled up in the mud by the river bank. Spring came along, water swelled in the river. This crawdad and all his crawdad pals went swimming and scrounging around the river bottom for good things to eat. Each had their own hidey-hole and everybody was happy. As the summer came along, the weather got hot. The rains stopped and slowly, slowly the water flowed less and less over the cataract. The big rock became bare in spots separating many of the little pools.
 This is the scary part. Our friend the crawdad was resting and dreaming not noticing that his little water hole had become an isolated little spot in the rock. The water got warmer, and he breathed up all the air in the water, until he started to feel dizzy and sluggish. If were not so clever he may have just perished there! But he realized he was caught by the draught of the season, and he would have to act swiftly to save himself.
 So he wriggled over the edge, out of his pool and struggled over the bare rock. He was lucky to find a small arm of the stream nearby. He dove back in the water - breathing a very big crawdad sigh of relief - aaaahhhh! Running water is cool & fresh and full of oxygen to breathe - it was good to be alive!
 The clever crawdad celebrated by finding his friends and playing a game of tag with their big snippy, pinchy claws. Their red shells glowed in the sunlight under the water. Their feelers waved in the slow trickle of water around the rocks, and they all made it to the next winter just fine.

LULLABYE TALES - SAFEHOME RMPERRY 2002

PRINCESS BROKE THE RULES

There once lived a princess in a fair land.  She was strong and brilliant. And she was restless. Though she loved her traditional princess clothes, she felt unduly limited wearing them all the time.
This princess found it was great fun to swagger about, jousting and joshing with the other knights and king’s men. Riding sidesaddle as a proper princess had been fine on a long summer stroll.  But, as Autumn came on, galloping over hill and dale was more to her liking.  So it was over hill and dale she bounded, taking in the colorful foliage and feeling powerful and free with the wind whistling through her chain mail.

Fall turned to winter. As was the custom in those parts in those days, everybody living in the old castle became more inclined to stay indoors. You can imagine how chilly those wispy princess dresses could be on the drafty days of the dead of winter. This season Princess found she rather liked taking a cognac with her pointy, forged metal armored feet propped up on a sturdy wooden stool by a roaring fire in the great hall of her family’s castle. Her suit of armor became a sort of toaster oven, which she found exceedingly cozy. And besides, nobody could track her down and pester her about all the embroidery to which she had not been attending.

Although it was not (at first) her intention to hide from anybody, she found it endlessly amusing to allow the castle folk to mistake her identity.  Inadvertently her costume change had become a ruse and a pastime. Then Princess discovered herself living two lives simultaneously.

Though at first, few took much notice of her as a fellow by the fire, after a while the castle staff inquired as to the mission and position of his honored Sir? Well, what was she to do? Princess was simply too satisfied with this side of her life to give it up altogether. She let it be known “he” was here to woo the fair princess, whose name and beauty were told of all across the kingdom, and even well beyond the river. “He” sat patiently waiting for her, hoping beyond hope for a casual encounter during which he might win her heart.

One evening there was a blustery chill rain assaulting the stain glass windowpanes. The cozy knight got a little carried away in confiding to the fire tender that he was not at all certain whether the princess was avoiding him, or if she was truly unaware of his longing presence.

Of course this heart-rending tale made its way like wild fire through the ranks of the castle staff. The very next morning the lady-in-waiting confessed the gossip to the princess as she drew back the shimmering, sheer curtains of her fine canopy bed. In fact it was their habit to exchange pleasantries in congenial and sincere fashion. This princess was not a stuffed shirt.

With modesty and restraint the servant informed Her Prettiness that a most honorable fellow had come a-courting, that he had pined a fortnight or more by the fire in the great hall attending her slightest consideration, and was she aware of this? “Oh?” replied the princess. She dared not utter another word. She blushed, nodded, and turned to don her richest satin robes for the morning.

As spring crept over the hills, the story of the new romance took on a life of its own. By summer the Queen got wind of it.  Yet, her fair daughter was deft at avoiding the subject. Appropriate marriage plans were a basis in the life of any princess – this was a given. Therefore the Queen was more than puzzled by her daughter’s reticence to discuss the current rumored affair.

                Finally someone claimed to have seen the princess and her mysterious, melancholy knight walking hand-in-hand by the royal rose garden. On a humid twilit evening when warm breezes wafted lavender scents all about, the Queen cornered the princess in the Labyrinth Hedge and spoke to the matter directly. "Daughter, what will you do to preserve your honor and ensure a stable and prosperous future for yourself?" said the Queen soberly, full of love for the girl. That she allowed even a possibility of a choice for her daughter was as generous a stance as could be expected, and it was all the Queen could offer at this critical juncture in life.
     "Oh, Mother" sighed the princess. I knew it would come to this. And you have been so patient with me. I will marry him." She declared with a steady gaze toward the horizon. "We shall make our life together and you shall have no fear of my destiny."
     A date was chosen for the wedding. The festivities were planned. The dowry was set and prepared for delivery. Then, much to the dismay of the King and Queen, the bride disappeared. On ivory parchment in gold ink, glistening in the dawn light, they found a note pinned to her pillow the very morning she was to be dressed in finery and given away.
     The note began, "Dear Mother and Father, Nanny and all of you who have loved me and cared for me all these years," It continued, "I have, at last found my true heart's love. Though the intimacy of it I can not bear to share with the entire Kingdom. Please forgive me and allow that I will, indeed share my children with you in good time – though to be sure, that will be no time soon. There is a world to see. I have heard tell of an ocean larger than anyone can imagine. I promise to be brave and strong. I promise to be honorable. I promise you will hear from me once I have settled down with my mate. I promise to be true in love and to express all that I am and can be, to honor my place on Earth.
 
Yours forever,  in good faith,
Lillith
Fair Princess"

     They blinked away their tears. They donated the sumptuous feast to the needy in the village. They lit candles and sent her prayers of health and peace. The night before, Lillith located her dowry packed in sturdy leather saddlebags. She loaded up her horse. She had become quite strong striding around all year in full armor half the time. She mounted her stead. With bread and cheese and beer, dried meat and fruits packed she rode off to the West, certain any search party would start to the East.
     The soft folds of her royal princess dress shifted rhythmically with the steady pace of her mount. She rather liked the feel of her gowns pressed up tight to her body, all tucked in the armor. There was only one silken tendril of ribbon escaped and dancing in the wind behind her.

 

 

COPYRIGHT 2010

Rumpus Publications,

110 Cedar Ave North, Eatonville, WA 9832

tel:253/235-1362

 

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I Rumpus: For Real (Serena)

For Real

Parity, Quynn,starts this inquiry.
Sarcasm dissembles. My feelings are fiery.
You've been to my house. You've played with my boy.
We've puzzled our sorrows. Yet you remain coy.

I want to show you my body, see how you react,
To see your attraction's a natural fact-
It's simple. It's pure.Call it lust or desire.
(No insult to intellect. That too, is required.)

You came to my party. You left with these words:
(You may have been drunk. But here's what I heard)
You invited me over to steam and to soak.
That, I took as an offer. Was it only a joke?

Did you mean what you said? Can you claim how you felt?
Does your beer open doors that when sober just melt?
To write you in candor may feel like a dare.
It may seem like a pressure that isn't quite fair.

So, don't feel obliged to honor a joke.
But where was the truth in the words which you spoke?
Is it lurking with fear, just behind the attraction?
Anticipation keeps you locked out of action?

We've both spent long years with our love in denial.
Interaction's preferred. You could call it a trial.
Experiment! Fling! Some serious fun.
I'll treat you with kindness. I'm warm as the Sun.

So, here I have laid all my cards on the table.
With rhyme and in verse to cushion as able.
OK show this to Suzie. And mention our date.
If you need to cancel, it's never too late.

For I honor your caution, concerns and your pace.
But, I need to live with my life in my face.
Like a wind from the canyon, deep, fresh and awesome.
In my youth I was frozen. Now, I have thawed some.

3 December, 2001
I Rumpus: For Real (Serena)

Two Cocoas

Two cocoas sat by the fireplace steaming into chill dark air.
    Nearly empty now, the kettle skitters and sings “hip! pip!pop!” on the stove top.

Two cocoas in their mugs amidst hearth heat and smoky fire smells.
    The air is warming.

Two cocoas, their whipped cream melting and bitter chocolate silt sifting to their mug bottoms.

Two cocoas huddle on the floor near the large wooden, woolen-draped rocker
    while the cat looks up intently.
Two cocoas have cooled just enough to be sipped slowly and warm the body
    from the tummy on out, and of course, from palms and fingers on up the arms.

Two cocoas.

Mist Monster

High on the mountain - way up where it is cold even on hot days - way, WAY up where it is snowy in the middle of Summer - up, UP where the trees end and the rocks and snow guard the last small bits of ground before it all turns to sky - in the cold and windy edges of the very largest mountain around is born the Mist Monster.

People speak of the sudden dark the Mist Monster can bring. People shudder to recall the damp and chill of such a visit. Looking at a Mist Monster it could seem quite tall - taller than the tallest trees at the edge of your meadow - sometimes even taller than the hill behind your house. But very few people know the heart of the Mist Monster. Almost nobody knows how it moves about.
In the foothills of Tahoma (the name meaning “that really big mountain over there”) there is a little girl living in a small house on the edge of a grove. The grove is home to a large and sprawling willow tree who never stops sipping from the water springs all around his toes (his toes, you may know as roots). Well, Willow and this little girl are friends. On very hot days she sings songs in the expansive shade of the tree’s long and meandering branches. They get along beautifully. She is never too hot from the sun while under the willow. Her singing makes him want to drink more spring water. Nobody knows they are friends with the fabled, the feared, the misunderstood Mist Monster.
Here is the truth of it. Here is their secret. When the storms on the mountain were simply too fierce for the secretly shy Mist Monster it would creep down into the lesser valleys and hills to hide out. This is how he met the girl under the willow tree.
It was very early on an August morning. The elk were perfectly happy tucked into tall grass beds all around the meadow just down the slope from the little girl’s house. The sun had only just sent word it would come over the hill shortly. Only a glow was peaking over the topmost ridge. It would be hours before any color or heat could threaten the dew drops.
The little girl had woken up early when the chattery birds outside her window started in on their morning gossip. As the warm morning promised a hot day she thought is best to pay an early visit to her friend in the grove of spring water. As she sat singing that day she was surprised (and a little thrilled) to see the Mist Monster curling its way behind the big trees. It was crawling up the creekbed in the foot of the valley. It was clearly minding its own business. The sky was blue. The air was warm. Yet, its gigantic soft and white tentacles wavered along to fill in the valley space ( It was usually unnoticed space, so the little girl was enjoying the show).
Well, the silly old Mist Monster was creeping along ever so slowly. It had not noticed the arrival of the sun. If you did not know already, amongst the hard rock faces of high cliff walls, along the roads cut into treacherous glaciers the Mist Monster has no foe. It may gobble you up, or you and your car, or you and your car and the truck in front of you! A Mist Monster may or may not burp you out somewhere around the corner.

But the still and open, shimmering heat of a summer valley meadow is no place to try to be chilly grey and damp for very long. Why? Because over the hill popped the sun! To the cool grove of springs retreated the Mist Monster. There it curled up under the willow tree. It paid no mind at all to the girl sitting there already. Instead, it swished and it swayed. It floated and wisped. Then it slowly dissipated back into the mountain air. Simple as that. Peaceful as sweetpeas. Here and gone.

To this day the willow and the little girl have told no one how the Mist Monster travels magically on air back up to the high mountain. They are not sure they would be believed.

BINKLE ! BINKLE!

“Mama, I’m scared of the dark!” Mama puts down her book to join the little one who is hopping around the kitchen with a case of nerves. “OK” she says, “You first, there’s the light switch for the hallway. Little fingers reach up to bring on the light down the dark passage. Here’s your room. I know you can turn on your own lamp. There you go. Well done. Choose your pajamas, alrighty. Together they return to the warm living room to finish the bedtime routine. “I need my slippers! The Dark!” Imploring eyes wish Mama off the couch again. “You can do this Sweetie. You know where all the switches are, and you can reach each one. Young eyebrows furrow, a frown is born. “But why can’t you come with me? Half the people in the room find this a reasonable enough question. Mama responds with the steady loving tone for lessons, “I’ll tell you the truth, kiddo. I know the fear is very real, but you made it up, and you can overcome it as well. People do this all the time. They grow up, living their whole lives running from bogeymen they made up and never learned how to face and defeat. I said it before, my job with you is to prepare you for life without me – not to do all you ask of me. Tell you what, I’ll watch you from here, I see you! Right! You’ve got the hall switch there in front of you – now shout out “BINKLE ! BINKLE!” loud enough so as I can hear you, because shadow monsters are very afraid of “BINKLE ! BINKLE!”

“BINKLE ! BINKLE!” - “BINKLE ! BINKLE!” Mama hears the scurry as the slippers are nabbed and the pipsqueak is racing back down the hallway, then the triumphant return to the living room with “I GOT ‘EM!” “YAY! Good for you.

With one light in a small dark room, they cuddle up on the couch for a read-aloud chapter. The shadow monster shakes it head, sighs and shuffles out the back window.

6 Dec 2002

Traveling In The Dark

 

There was a little boy traveling in the dark. He was looking for a place to sleep. He had woken up in a strange place just a while ago.

Before going to bed he remembered sitting in front of a wall that was a window. He hardly blinked at the tall buildings he could look down upon. Everywhere was cement. There were two huge cranes perched on top of skyscrapers right out there. A slithering snake of lights flickered around a wide arc and between the buildings. Mama said that was the big road they had come on to the city. But it looked more like an electric monster in the dark, tall, hard place like nowhere he could remember.

It was puzzling exactly how he had fallen asleep since he was sure he promised himself he would not until he was home. The room smelled funny here. The air was loud! The sheets were scratchy. So when he woke up of course they had to leave and there was no way he was changing his mind about it. Why couldn’t his parents understand? It was simple. Just go home now. That is all. They sure looked terrible as they took him down to the car.

As tired as he felt it still was pretty keen to see all the green and red lights lined up as they drove down the city street. Kind of made him want to sing and dance and tell jokes. Then they came to the high bridge and it was dark all around. That felt quieter. Then there were trees and houses all around and it looked a lot like Gramma’s street.

The scary stuff was pretty far away now. And he was so very tired and relieved to have escaped that nasty room. Traveling in the dark like this with Mama and Papa was pretty familiar . He was in the car all strapped into his special seat. All that seemed OK.

Next thing he knew he woke up in the hotel room again but this time it smelled like coffee. Then he found out there was a hot tub and a cool pool up the elevator on the top floor.  Swimming was one of his favorite things. They even had puffy arm bands he could borrow.

...to Dust

It happened Thursday afternoon,
When she erased it all too soon.
The blackboard was chock-full of notes
Our heads were down, we madly wrote.

Then we’d look up and there was MORE!
Way more than there was before.
With heavy hearts we’re scribbling quickly.
Tapping feet, we’re breathing thickly.

She knew we’re cramming for the test.
Couldn’t she trust we’d do our best?
If only she’d felt we’re on her side
Must we remain her her foe denied?

Her glance was chilling as she swept
All information mere moments kept.
The faintest trace of hope we’d pass
Was clear and gone as light through glass.

But worse, we found to our alarm,
She had erased my classmate’s arm!
And then his knees, and last his ear.
And then he was quite gone, I fear.

For he’d been worried something dire,
Then consumed as if in fire.
We watched in horror chalk dust flying,
Dumbstruck there was no denying.

As she stroked the boards with felt
His corporeal body seemed to melt
Into the air right by my desk.
So now he’ll take no Friday test.

But I was wondering where he went.
And why her notes she thusly spent?
And what the heck was all the hurry?
As if she had to see us scurry.

She might have watched or felt or thought.
She might have waited, reasoned, sought.
She might have paused or breathed or sighed
She might have cared, or maybe tried.

SORRY STONE

The little boy stomped on his Mama’s foot. She cried out, “OUCH!” Then she got mad.
“You are too big and heavy to jump on people. That really hurt. It still hurts!”
The boy turned away - a very small smile on his face. 
Mama continued, ”I would like you to say you are sorry.”
“I won’t.” he replied.
“I’d like you to mean it, too.” Then she added, “Was that on purpose or a mistake?
“On purpose.” was his frank reply.
“Hmmm. Well, it still hurts”

A short while after the little one insists, “Mama, play with me!”
“I am still mad and my foot still hurts.”
‘“Mama! There’s a stone there.”
“Where?”
“There! See? It’s a sorry stone.” He said picking it up.
“A sorry stone?”
“I want to give it to you”
“You do? What does it say?” Mama asks.
“I am sorry” He answers for the stone.
“OK. Thank you for the sorry stone. I feel much better.”

Fruition

*fru·i·tion (froo-ish'en):
      1. The achievement of something desired or worked for.       2. The condition of bearing fruit.

Once there was a man who lived by a field in the hills that head towards a massive mountain. He lived with his dogs and cats. The garden he tended was often visited by deer and elk from the nearby woods. They would choose among all kinds of fresh vegetables and fruits for every season.
He was a good man with a nice home but he wanted more. He wanted to be a father. At one time he had met a beautiful woman. They had had a passion and they thought they would have a baby. But the baby knew it was not a true love - so it returned to the land of baby angels leaving the man and woman alone with lost wishes. Soon thereafter she left him. He stayed home long hours working in the garden.

One cold day in the winter, on a whimsy, he ordered some exotic plants from a faraway store to mail him. They were called “hearty kiwi”. Smaller, smoother and tougher than their cousins from New Zealand, they were said to survive a mountain winter. Time would tell.
Three wisps arrived in a little box; one male, two female. Just shoots with a single leaf apiece was all there was to start so, each was placed in a tiny pot. They grew. So, he placed them in bigger pots until they were tall enough and strong enough to live by the fence at the side of the garden. Years passed. Seasons came and went. To his surprise the little shoots became handsome vines and spread along the fence. They were comely and colorful bushes yet they bore no fruit. Not even one small piece.
As the fence sagged with the growing weight of the vines the man tilled and weeded, sowed and reaped. He tried to forget the lovely woman and the child they never had. While his hands were busy his heart was heavy. Though being a clever fellow he knew to keep his eye peeled for his future mate, which he did.
Time and patience rewarded his efforts. He met a woman at a dance. They danced and walked and talked. He wrote to her. Then they met again. He knew he felt comfortable with her yet he could not say why. They made many meals together and he invited her to chase the weeds away from the flower beds and gather the food as it ripened.
After a time they decided to stay together to make a life in the house by the field with the gardens. They talked and worked. They laughed and they loved and made a beautiful child. One summer a baby boy came into their life. They rejoiced by spending their time with him and continuing to care for each other.
As they worked in the garden they admired the kiwi vines- now a leafy palace over the tired old fence whose posts had finally laid down to rot. Stepping through the wire, pushing aside yellow leaves to inspect the damage they were delighted to discover kiwis just larger than grapes dangling in bunches, many bunches.
After the first frost they were soft and sweet. So she picked them in the Autumn harvest . She smiled and sang to the baby in the barrow as the firm green fruits resounded, “Kerplink! kerplot!” in the bucket. All the while it seemed the garden itself was celebrating the new family by offering this abundant gift of long awaited fruit.

For Real (Serena)

Parity,Quynn, startst his inquiry.

Sarcasm dissembles. My feelings are fiery.

You've been to my house. You've played with my boy.

We've pvzzled our sorrows. Yet,you remain coy.





I want to show youmy body, see how you react,

To see your attraction's a natural fact.

It's simple. It's pure. Call it lust or desire.

-No insult to intellect. That, too, is required.





You came to my party. You left with these words:

(Youmay have beendrunk. But,here's what I heard)

You invited me over to drink and to soak.

That, I took as an offer.Was it only ajoke?





Did you mean what you said? Can you claim how you felt?

Does your beer open doors that when sober just melt?

To write you in candor may feel like a dare.

It may seem like apressure that isn't quite fair.





So, don't feel obliged to honor a joke.

But where was the truth in the words which you spoke?

Is it lurking with fear, just behindthe attraction?

Anticipation keeps you locked out of action?





We'veboth spent longyearswith our love in denial.

Interaction's preferred. You could call it a trial.

Experiment! Fling! Some serious fun.

I'll treat youwith kindness. I'm warm as the Sun.





So, here I have laid all my cards on the table.

With rhyme and in verse to cushion as able.

OK, show this to Suzie. And mention our date.

If you need to cancel, it's never too late.





For I honor your caution, concerns and your pace.

But, I need to live with my life in my face.

Like a wind from the canyon, deep, fresh and awesome.

In my youth I was frozen.Now I have thawed some.



Regan Merritt Perry

November 2001

Tree Shaker

     A young child was walking through the woods. He came upon a tree so slender he could wrap each hand around its trunk. Even so, he looked up to see it was still quite tall. So he gave it a good shake.
     “I am the wind!” he shouted, “I shake! Shake! Make all the leaves fall down!” He laughed and shouted as he rocked.
     The little tree in his grip sighed and answered, “Swishing, swooshing”. A few yellow leaves drifted down and all about the little boy, much to his delighted satisfaction.
     From that day on, when he walked by that tree on the path he dutifully gave it a good shake. “Swishing, swooshing” said the tree each time.
     But one day the answer was different. “Swishing, swooshing, BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!” said the tree and the bees who were visiting just then.
     “Yikes!” yelped the little boy. He ran away as fast as he could. But he could not run as fast as bees buzz. The bees caught up and delivered two sharp stings to the galloping child. “Ouch! Youch! Mama!” cried the little boy all the way home.
     His Mama made a paste of baking soda and water to smear on his stings. She kissed him gently and asked him if he might figure out some way to make friends with the tree and the bees. The little boy got to thinking. Then he took to walking. He found himself back up the path and standing by the very same tree of bees.
     He rested his hands on the smooth young bark. He looked up to admire the colorful leaves dancing all over the bright sky. It made him blink and smile. He sat down to see if he could catch a glimpse of his own eyelashes blinking. But you might know how tricky that is. First he giggled and then he yawned. Then he fell asleep right there under the gentle hum of bees.
     As he slept he dreamed he was a giant. His footsteps were earthquakes. The wind was in his roar and the wake as he passed you by. The buzzing of bees above our sleeping boy entered his dreams becoming the giant’s windy breathe. The blowing of the wind made the trees dance.
     “I am the wind!” he blustered, “I shake! Shake! Make ALL the leaves fall down!”

COPYRIGHT 2010

Rumpus Publications, 

110 Cedar Ave North, Eatonville, WA 9832

tel: 360/832-8298

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Night Eyes

The saguaro, kings of the desert, were majestic dark shadows all across as far as the little boy could see. The fading light of day was turning all sights from all colors to shades of black and gray. The green and gray giants - all prickles in the blazing light of day - were now reduced to clear-cut silhouettes pointing to the moon. They howled silently.   “Flit! flit! flit!” It was a good game to try to see just one shadow through the car window as they all zoomed past.
     The giant saguaro reminded him very much of camels. As little as he was, he knew a few facts about cactus plants and camels. Both are famous for their ability to take in water when available and store it for later use. Keen. They were both made to keep what they needed most; that which was hardest to find where they lived.

     He had been driving with his folks through the southwestern USA for days, weeks. At the start of the trip it was a shadowy new moon. The second day out there was a tiny brilliant arc of moonlight. If he squinted and stared and believed he could just barely see the dark side of the moon. He called this using his night eyes.

     Every night he noticed a slightly bigger sliver rising. He had never noticed the waxing of the moon so clearly before. It had been there, but he had seldom called on it for friendship as he had on this quiet road trip. By now he was feeling quite fond of the big full moon, even if it did outshine so many stars.

     “Could you help me?” the Moon murmured sadly. “Excuse me?” Naturally, the little boy was a bit startled to be addressed so directly by the Moon.  “I seemed to have lost my friends again. Could you help me find them?” Inquired the Moon.  At this the boy had to grin. But not wanting to hurt the Moon’s feelings he kindly replied, “Why sure. I think I can help.”

     He asked, “Mr. Moon? Have you been looking for them just lately?”. “Well, yes I have. I thought if I borrowed the sun’s light I might find them.” Replied the Moon.  “Silly Moon.” Said the boy, “You must never forget to use your Night Eyes while you are a dark , new moon. Then you will see your starry friends shining all around. When you wait until you are beaming brightly, you outshine everybody near you!”

     “Oh yes! That’s right. It seems every time I am a new moon forget this. Thank you for reminding me. You wouldn’t mind if I need to ask you again sometime?” Asked the shy Moon.  “Not at all.” The little boy nodded and smiled warmly. “But I am traveling now. Will you be able to find me when I am at home?”  “Why sure.” Moon said. “I think I can find you any time any phase.” The moon chuckled at his own moon humor. The boy knew about phases now. So, he got the joke.

     They were to be fast friends from that night and on through many years. They were always there for each other, especially when someone needed a reminder to use their night eyes.

COPYRIGHT 2010

Rumpus Publications,

110 Cedar Ave North, Eatonville, WA 98328

tel: 360/832-8298

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