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.