Crescent

It’s the end of the day, too late for a stone.

I wheel the bin out, ready for the morning. The night is cold, bitter cold, and I’m careful not to slip. Still, something catches my eye and I tip my head back. Look up.

A carpet of stars. The firmament.

Between the trees, the crescent moon, glowing silver white.

It takes my breath away. This late, small stone. This firmament.

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