Red Beaver

The sky was now clear and a deep cloudless blue that beckoned all eyes, eyes that had watched the willowy cosmic
dance of the moon of the stellar and lunar bodies, to stare out into depths, the moon had slid back to its place on the far
side of the sun, falling graciously away from the star it had but moments ago sought to cloud out and over shout. The
eclipse had ended, as all things must. The child, whose ragged red hair shimmered and waved in the wind, sat nimbly
in the beach’s sand looking at her crumbling castle with an oblivious contempt for all that had transpired in the heavens
up above not but moments ago. Her amorous agenda still had her by the hand, guiding her mind to some solution to the
creation of her miraculous castle. Her face scrunched up into the precocity of her concentration, with brows furrowed
and full lips pouting, as she settled into warm white sands rustling her toes and fingers bashfully. Was she wrong to
have combined the salty sea water with the sand? Did not the sea give the earthy sand form? Yes, she concluded, the
sea gives the earth form; the only reason why her castle had failed her was that she hadn’t got the mixture quite right,
not just yet at least. It would take time, as all things do.

The red Beaver ran the shore.

Red Beaver by The Red Beaver January 4, 2019