Write about a radish
Too many people write about the moon.

The night is black
The stars are small and high
The clock unwinds its ever-ticking tune
Hills gleam dimly
Distant nighthawks cry.
A radish rises in the waiting sky.

From Moon, Have You Met My Mother? by Karla Kuskin. Copyright © 2003 by Karla Kuskin. Reprinted by permission of by HarperCollins Children's Books. All rights reserved.