by Laura Shovan

Poetry Friday: Chocolate Haibun

Thanks to Liz Steinglass for hosting the Poetry Friday round up this week!

I’m posting my Poetry Friday offering early this week. I’ll be traveling on Friday, visiting the niece and nephews mentioned in the poem below.

This is my first attempt at a haibun. It has also been forever since I shared a “random conversations” post. I wanted to capture the way an everyday moment (shopping) transformed into a moment of unexpected connection with a stranger. Haibun — because of its leap from prose to haiku — seemed a good fit. Has anyone else tried the form? What do you think about its hybrid style?

Cheer Down
By Laura Shovan

A quick stop at the local chocolatier. It’s Hanukkah, and I’ve had my eye on their white chocolate unicorn lollipops for my niece and nephews. What would be a brief transaction – customer, clerk – shifts when a George Harrison song begins to play. He is our favorite Beatle. Under the banter, recognition that each of us is settled down, grounded and calmed, by the same music.

Dusk on Main Street
Gray light, brown bag
Saffron truffles

A herd of white chocolate unicorns.

If you are ever in Maryland, the chocolate shop is Sweet Cascades in Old Ellicott City. Their truffles are divine.

And if you’d like to listen to George perform the song referenced in my poems title, you’ll find him here.

See you next week when it’s my turn to host Poetry Friday. I’m attempting Mr. Linky for the first time. Fingers crossed!

Poetry Friday: To the Moon, In the Sky

This week’s Poetry Friday host is Carol at the blog Carol’s Corner. Stop by for poetry book reviews, news, and original verse!

I’ve got a great read-along this week: a work of historical verse to pair with a wonderful new middle grade novel, coming out in February.

First up: The verse.

A few months ago, Linda Mitchell of the blog A Word Edgewise recommended a fabulous book: Countdown, 2878 Days to the Moon, by Suzanne Slade.

I hesitate to call this a picture book. It is a rich poetic history of the American moon missions, from President John F. Kennedy’s announcement of a goal to land a man on the moon (1961) to Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin’s moonwalk in 1969.

Paired with the poems, which cover all 11 Apollo missions, are gorgeous full-color paintings of the astronauts and rockets by artist Thomas Gonzalez, as well as photographs of and info-boxes about the astronauts on each mission.

The astronaut who most caught my attention in this book was Michael Collins. He flew with Armstrong and Aldrin, but never set foot on the moon:

Collins remains in the command module–
alone,
hoping he won’t have to return to Earth alone.
Then he pushes a button
and releases Eagle.

“Okay, there you go. Beautiful!” Collins calls out
as the ships slowly drift apart.

Imagine being the one to stay behind at that moment. Imagine being solely responsible for getting Armstrong and Aldrin safely back on board the command module.

There’s another reason why Michael Collins stood out among all of the heroic characters in Countdown. I had recently read about him in another book.

Next up: The Novel.

Ruby in the Sky is a debut middle grade novel by Jeanne Zulick Ferruolo.

Ruby’s Dad used to work for NASA. The moon was their touchstone. Whether they were together or apart, every night they would both look at the moon and know they were thinking about each other. But Ruby and her mother’s lives have been in a tailspin since her father passed away.

Mom has dragged Ruby from Florida to Vermont, her own childhood home, in the middle of winter. Ruby is reluctant to make friends — even reluctant to speak — at her new school. But when a class biography project comes up and she has to pick a topic, her first choice is Michael Collins.

There is so much more I could say about this beautiful story of friendship, forgiveness, and finding your voice. I hope you will read it and enjoy it for yourself! Full disclosure, MG author Tricia Clasen and I worked with Jeanne on this book when she was our Pitch Wars mentee in 2016 (read about that here).

If Ruby Moon Hayes were a real person, she’d devour the poems and history in Countdown. She might even have some facts and important historical figures of her own to add to the “race to the moon” story. For your real life kids, these two books are perfects read-alongs. Enjoy!

Poetry Friday: Job Search

Irene Latham is hosting Poetry Friday this week at Live Your Poem.

When I heard poet and sculptor Jay Hall Carpenter perform this poetic monologue a few weeks ago, I knew it was the perfect thing to share on Black Friday.

I met Jay, a fellow Maryland poet, at the DiVerse Poetry readings series in Gaithersburg, MD this spring. (Those of you who go to that city’s book festival, be sure to say hi to Lucinda Marshall, host of the Diverse Poetry series and its lively community of readers.) After hearing him read, I had to invite Jay to perform at the local series I co-host, Wilde Readings.

I hope this hilarious portrait poem brings you a smile, whether or not you’re braving the malls today.

JOB SEARCH
By Jay Hall Carpenter

What if I had a diff’rent job,
An occupation more attuned
To skills that best befit a snob
And are, in practice, less jejune?

Perhaps I could, a critic be–
No Broadway show could match my taste.
I could appraise fine jewelry
And at a glance know gem from paste.

But English, that’s the highest calling,
To speak precisely, without doubt.
And what on Earth is  more appalling
Than when one calls a route a rout?

We lend to friends, we never loan,
And such transgressions bare my talons.
For we must all, our grammar hone.
It is less milk, but fewer gallons.

We champ the bit, we do not chomp,
A swind’ler is a sharp, not shark.
Abhor inconsequential pomp
And make each sentence hit its mark!

It’s Farther when we go the distance,
Further when we’ve things to add.
The full effect of my assistance
Is an affect far from bad.

We flounder, as we  gasp for breath,
But founder when we sink below.
Poor usage is akin to death
As even lesser men should know.

Yet here I’m stuck and must be stalwart,
Although I’m built for better thing.
So in my name-tagged vest at Walmart
I’ll greet them in the tongue of kings!

Shared with the author’s permission.

Jay Hall Carpenter has been a professional artist for over 40 years, beginning as a sculptor for the Washington National Cathedral, and winning numerous national awards for his work. His first poetry collection, Dark and Light (2012), was followed by 101 Limericks Inappropriate For All Occasions (2107), and will be followed next year by a third, as yet untitled, collection. He has written poetry, plays, and children’s books throughout his career and now sculpts and writes in Silver Spring, MD.

 

Check out Jay’s wonderful gallery of sculptures here.

I was lucky enough to see Jay’s statue of Frederick Douglass in person during the Chesapeake Children’s Book Festival (Eaton, MD). This year marks Douglass’ 200th birthday.

#NCTE18

NCTE attendees, this is where you’ll find me at this weekend’s conference. Stop by and say hello!

Coming to “Becoming the Leaders: The Power of Female Protagonists to Empower All Student Voices”? — You’ll find a recommended reading list at the bottom of this post.

Have a great conference!

 

Becoming the Leaders: The Power of Female Protagonists to Empower All Student Voices

Saturday – 12:30-1:45 – 370 D

We believe literature should reflect and honor the lives of all young people. Providing opportunities for all students to access a range of voices and stories in literature allows them to develop a broad understanding and appreciation of the human experience, be open to various ways of being and thinking, and to see themselves.

*RECOMMENDED READING

The Bridge Home by Padma Venkatraman

Escape from Aleppo by N.H. Senzai

Ernestine, Catastrophe Queen by Merrill Wyatt

Evangeline of the Bayou by Jan Eldredge

Front Desk by Kelly Yang

George by Alex Gino

Here Lies Arthur by Philip Reeve

The House That Lou Built by Mae Respicio

The Laura Line by Crystal Allen

Lumberjanes by Noelle Stevenson

The Mad Wolf’s Daughter by Diane Magras

The Miscalculations of Lightning Girl by Stacy McAnulty

Nadya Skylung and the Cloudship Rescue by Jeff Seymour

Patina by Jason Reynolds

Peasprout Chen, Future Legend of Skate & Sword by Henry Lien

Sanity & Tallulah by Molly Brooks

A Sky Full of Stars by Linda Williams Jackson

Skylark and Wallcreeper by Anne O’Brien Carelli

Spin the Golden Lightbulb by Jackie Yeager

Takedown by Laura Shovan

The Unforgettable Guinevere St Clair by Amy Makechnie

Unidentified Suburban Object by Mike Jung

The 11:11 Wish by Kim Tomsic

*RECOMMENDED LISTENING

http://kidlitwomenpodcast.libsyn.com/ – Episode from 10/22/18 “Jennifer Ziegler discusses with Alvina Ling how adults gender-limit children’s reading without realizing it.”

Poetry Friday: A Poem for Foodies

Linda Baie at Teacher Dance is hosting Poetry Friday this week.

Hey, friends! I’m heading to the National Council of Teachers of English in Houston today.

Will you be there too? My schedule is at the bottom of this post.

I thought it would be a fun week for a throwback poem. This one is from the 2013 March Madness Poetry competition, run by Ed DeCaria at Think Kid Think.

My Round Two, 2013 word in this competition was “speculate.” This poem still tickles me, especially because Mr. S is a *huge* fan of kale.

From Queensland Government/Queensland Health

A Bargain
By Laura Shovan

At dinnertime, I speculate
about the green stuff on my plate.
This gloppy mess, was it alive?
Could it be spinach, kale, endive,
or maybe radioactive peas
floating on a zombie’s sneeze?
Its pungent smell is deleterious
enough to make my brain delirious,
but I will eat the thing I hate,
if you’ll just let me stay up late.

***

Hope to see you at #NCTE18.

Guest Post Alert: A Long Way to Go on Gun Violence

A week ago today, we woke up to news of another mass shooting — this time at a California bar where it had been college night. It had only been eleven days since eleven people were shot and killed at a Pittsburgh synagogue.

Photo credit: Yassine El Mansouri

In a rush of emotion, I wrote about my experience seeing a staged production of Jason Reynolds’ YA verse novel LONG WAY DOWN. I am grateful for this book and others — like David Barclay Moore’s THE STARS BENEATH OUR FEET — which look not only at violence, but at the underlying culture that celebrates and inculcates it, especially among boys. Especially among boys of color.

I’m grateful to Nerdy Book Club for giving me the space to process what I saw on stage and share it with you. And to my friend Susan Hobby for coming with me to see the production. And to Jason Reynolds, of course, for this book, which everyone should read.

You will find my guest post, “A Long Way to Go on Gun Violence,” here.

Barb Langridge Reviews Takedown

This thoughtful review of my middle grade novel Takedown comes from former Howard County, MD librarian Barb Langridge.

Barb is the founder of the website A Book and a Hug, which I wrote about in a post for All the Wonders a few years ago: “Discover Your Reading Personality: A Book and a Hug.”

***

Two words for you: Middle School. There’s a lot going on in middle school. These are those turbulent bridge years filled with insecurity and peer pressure when childhood friendships start tearing apart and you’re trying to understand who you are as an individual at the same time you’re wanting so desperately to belong and fit in.

Told in alternating points of view, this is a white water rafting ride through the eyes of two champion kids who are dealing with some real-life struggles, some happening unseen inside of them and some in the glaring spotlight of life in the hallways of their school. These are kids who are figuring it out for themselves and showing their real strength as they take themselves to the mats.

Mickey (given name Mikayla) is the youngest daughter in a family with two big brothers all successful wrestlers. She lives with her mother and her older brother Cody while her oldest brother, Evan, a state champion wrestler, has chosen to live with their father. She is following in the Delgado family tradition which means not going to the dances, not being part of the Thriller act in the school talent show with her best friend and instead choosing to win in the Thanksgiving wrestling tournament.

Mickey and her best friend are about to begin wrestling at the middle school level. But when Mickey goes to join the team her brothers always wrestled for, the coach tells her, “No girls allowed.” When Mickey finds another team that will allow the girls to wrestle, her best friend says she isn’t coming along this year.

Lev has wrestled for years. He has a goal this year and that is out wrestle and defeat Nick Spence, the guy who beat him on the mats last year and is using that win to taunt and bully.

Nick Spence: “Ask your girlfriend.”

Lev Sofer: “At least I’m not afraid to wrestle her.”

Lev is starting to get headaches. He’s struggling with himself and what he really wants to do and who he really wants to be. He’s struggling with “being a boy in middle school, always trying to measure up to the other guys who brag about football and lacrosse, who’d rather get the girls to flirt with them than get good grades.”

Turns out Mickey and Lev are going to be wrestling partners. A boy and a girl facing each other every day on the mat, practicing holds, wearing the team-issued singlet, dealing with the teasing at school from Nick and some of their own teammates.

What do you do when you’re a girl and the best team for you is all boys and won’t let you join? What do you do when your father doesn’t see you through the same lens he uses to see his two sons? What do you do when your best friend changes? What do you do when you’ve always thought the most important thing in life was to win a state championship?

What do you do when something inside of you changes and the things you thought were important to you, the things you thought defined you and gave you your identity, don’t matter to you anymore?

Read the rest of the review here.

***

I am so grateful when a reader like Barb takes the time to write a review. Her insights into the book’s themes and characters are spot on.

Thank you, Barb!

Takedown: Bonus Scene!

Welcome, readers and fans of Takedown.

I have something special to share with you — an extra scene from the book!

This road trip mini-chapter takes place at the end of Chapter 30, when Lev is taking a week off from wrestling. Go to the end of page 212 (in hardcover editions), and you’ll find the spot where this scene begins.

This was one of my favorite sections to write, because it’s set at the ocean. I love the Maryland and Delaware beaches and it was fun to imagine Lev there. However, sometimes authors have to cut or edit down parts of a book that they love if they don’t move the story forward. Do you think that’s true of this scene?

You’ll find some discussion questions about this scene at the bottom of the page.

***

CHAPTER 30 BONUS MATERIAL

It’s the strangest week of my life. When I’m at school, or if Bryan’s free, everything is great. Bryan, Emma, Marisa, and I get permission to eat lunch in the media center so we can work on our mythology projects. It’s still warm enough to play basketball or ride bikes after school. But after dinner, I don’t have anything to do. I get my homework done and delete texts from Mickey. I don’t know what to say to her, so I say nothing. I watch the History Channel, then go to bed early.

I don’t even want to open my wrestling notebook, because then I’ll have to ask myself who I am. The kid who writes poetry, who thinks it’s not worth it to fight? Or the athlete, working to show everyone that I’m the best because—win or lose—I tried my hardest. I’m still not sure. What I do know is I’m a better friend since I stopped wrestling, at least to Bryan and Emma.

***

There’s no school on Friday because it’s the end of the quarter. I am already up and dressed when Dalia comes downstairs to make herself coffee.

“I’m taking Lev to the mall,” she announces.

Mom looks up from her crossword. “You are?”

Dalia grabs me in an awkward one-armed hug. “We both need to get out of the house.”

What is my sister plotting?

Mom puts down her pencil, ready to protest. “You want to take your brother to the mall?”

“For lunch and a movie.”

Mom bites the eraser end of her pencil.

“Look,” Dalia says. “I know I’m not the kind of big sister you want me to be. I hate babysitting. I’m not some kind of teenage life coach. And I’m not planning on giving Lev my big book of tips on how to survive high school.”

Mom opens her mouth to speak, but Dalia stops her.

“All this Evan stuff. Lev looked up to him. He’s been almost as upset as I am.”

I gape at my sister. Dalia noticed that?

Mom puts down her pencil. Then she gets up and fishes two twenty-dollar bills out of her purse. She hands the money to Dalia. “Be back in time for dinner,” she says.

Dalia rushes me out the door before Mom can change her mind.

“The mall?” I ask.

“I lied.”

I follow my sister to Mom’s minivan. “So where are we really going?”

“The beach.”

The beach is more than two hours away. Plus, it’s January. “We’re going to freeze.”

“Trust me,” she says, pulling out of the driveway. “A road trip is what we need.”

Normally, Dalia is a radio tyrant. If she’s driving, she picks the music. But she puts me in charge of the radio as we drive past Annapolis, over the Bay Bridge, and through the Eastern Shore to Ocean City.

This moment in the scene is set at Rosenfeld’s Jewish Deli in Ocean City, MD.

By the time we get there, it’s almost noon. Dalia takes me for lunch at a Jewish deli along Route 1. She has matzo ball soup. I order a bagel and lox with cream cheese. It comes with capers and lemon, the way Sabba made it for us the last time he and Safta visited from Israel.

“Aren’t we going to the boardwalk?” I ask when Dalia turns out of the restaurant, heading away from the shops and hotels of Ocean City.

“Too touristy,” she says.

I don’t point out that it’s too cold out for tourists.

She adds, “It’s emptier at Fenwick. No shops by the ocean. Just beach.”

It has been two weeks since I went to Evan’s dual meet. Dalia hasn’t missed a day of school. She hasn’t skipped a field hockey practice. Since that first night, she’s been acting like nothing is wrong. But today her face sags. She’s pulled her hair into a bun instead of taking the time to braid it. And she isn’t wearing makeup. Not even that pink stuff she always smears on her lips.

Dalia looks away from the road for a second and sees me staring. “What?” she says.

“Nothing.”

We pass empty road-side amusement parks and more mini golf places than I can count: aliens and pirates, dinosaurs with their long necks craning toward the road, their paint as dull and faded as the sky. As we drive north, shops get cheesier and more run down.

Dalia parks in a row of empty spaces near some sand dunes. From the back seat, she grabs a grocery bag full of hats, scarves, and gloves. She takes a thick blanket out of the trunk and hands me the bag.

“Put these on,” she says. “It’s going to be cold. And windy.” She puts on dark sunglasses, even though it’s not sunny.

The beach is empty. Dalia lays out a blanket and sits, wrapping her arms around her knees. What else is there to do but sit next to her?

“I don’t get it,” I say. “Why’d we come all the way out here?”

“Shh.”

We sit together, watching the breakers and not talking. It feels like the ocean is washing away all the meanness between me and Dalia. The time I knocked her down, the names she’s called me, and all the times she’s rolled her eyes at me. That stuff doesn’t seem important when it’s just the two of us and the ocean.

“We don’t really know each other well, Lev,” Dalia says. “You’re always wrestling and I’m at field hockey. Even when you were a baby, I was already in kindergarten. We didn’t have time together like some brothers and sisters do, messing around with Play-Doh and stuff.”

I never thought about it that way, but she’s right. Dalia and I hardly ever did things together, even when we were small. We’re sitting close, but not touching. I lean against her arm.

“Why are you always so worried about what I’m going to say?” Dalia asks.

“I guess I want you to like me.”

“Of course I like you.”

“Not the kind you do because I’m your brother.”

“Oh. You want to be friends.” She turns and smiles at me. “Isn’t that why I brought you here?” Dalia picks up a handful of sand and lets it run through her fingers. “Kids at school keep asking me questions. ‘Did Evan ever hurt you? Did you know he was violent.’”

I nod. “They were talking trash about him at wrestling practice.”

Dalia gets up and brushes the sand off her jeans. I shake out the blanket. We stand together, staring at the breakers.

“To be honest, I didn’t want to drive out here by myself. Everyone’s so caught up in whether Evan meant to hurt that kid or not. They forget that he’s a good person. Most of the time, he’s a good person. You’re the only person who gets it, Lev.”

I tuck the blanket under my elbow and put my other arm around Dalia’s shoulders. We are almost the same height. Dalia tugs the edge of her hoodie’s sleeve out of her coat and wipes her eyes.

“You ready to go?” I ask.

“Yeah. I’ll grab some coffee on our way back. Hot chocolate for you.” She shoves me, but she’s smiling. “You may be almost as tall as me, but you’re not ready for coffee yet.”

When we get to the car, Dalia says, “Thanks, Lev. I feel better. The ocean always makes me feel better.”

“What’ll we tell Mom?”

“That we had lunch, went to a movie walked around the mall.”

“Will she believe us?”

“She’ll be so glad we spent time together, I doubt she’ll ask too many questions.”

As usual, my sister is right.

***

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS:

  • Most of Takedown takes place at Lev and Mickey’s homes, schools, and wrestling events. Why do you think this scene is set at the beach? Why does Dalia want to go to the beach, even though it’s winter.
  • Lev notices that he’s almost as tall as his sister. What does that symbolize?
  • How has Lev’s relationship with his sister changed from the beginning of Takedown?
  • Do you think it was a good idea to cut this scene from the novel? Why or why not?

I’d love to hear what you thought! Leave a comment or send me an email with notes from your discussion.

Poetry Friday: The Poetry of US

This week’s Poetry Friday host is Kay McGriff at A Journey through the Pages.

Happy Friday, poets and poetry lovers!

Autumn has arrived in full force. We had our first frost in Maryland this week, but I’m still thinking of the sunny days of summer.

Last Friday, I brought you with me on a visit to the Sea Turtle Hospital on the Florida Keys. Today, let’s visit the beach.

 

I was thrilled when J. Patrick Lewis invited me to contribute a poem to his wonderful new anthology, The Poetry of US, which contains “More than 200 poems that celebrate the people, places, and passions of the United States.” The book is published by National Geographic, so it’s no surprise that the photographs on every page are gorgeous.

My assignment was to write a poem about New Jersey.

People laugh when they hear that Jersey’s nickname is “The Garden State.” All they’ve seen of my home state is highways — and the factories and airports that surround them.

In fact, for a small state, New Jersey is geographically diverse. Its long eastern border is the Atlantic Ocean. It contains the Pine Barrens, part of the Appalachian Trail, and many state forests.

You *may* also have some thoughts about New Jersey if you ever watched the infamous reality TV show, “The Jersey Shore.”

When I sat down to write my poem, I wanted to show people the other side of New Jersey. I thought about summertime trips to the beach when I was a child, and how some of the places we loved best had been devastated by Super Storm Sandy in 2012. There’s a video showing the damage to our favorite boardwalk in Seaside Heights here.

Most of the time, my family avoided the bustle and busy-ness of the boardwalk and amusement parks. Instead, we would leave early, early in the morning to find a spot at Island Beach State Park. This is a preserved, undeveloped barrier island with beautiful, spare beaches.

I always loved running along the path, over the dunes, and catching that first glimpse of the Atlantic.


Beach Day
Island Beach State Park, New Jersey
by Laura Shovan

 We leave home before dawn, our car packed
with towels, sunblock, coolers of food.

There are closer beaches,
but they’re for boardwalk people.

We smile when we reach the park gate.
No hotels here. No tourist shops.

Can you smell the salt air? Mom asks.
The beach stays hidden behind miles of dunes.

At last, Dad finds a spot. We tumble out of the car,
race down a path through the scrub.

There! I am first to glimpse the wide, white beach,
first to stick my toes in the icy Atlantic.

I stretch my arms and spin. All I see are the dunes
and the ocean.  All I hear is the music of the waves.

***

Search the subject index of The Poetry of US and you’ll be sure to find places and people that are dear to your heart.

I have good friends in Albuquerque, and loved discovering Michelle Heidenrich Barnes’ concrete poem, “Mass Ascension: At the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta.”

Mary Lee Hahn’s poem “Bessie and Amelia,” about female aviators Bessie Coleman and Amelia Earhart, reminded me of reading Pat Valdata’s book, Where No Man Can Touch. You can read my post about that book — all persona poems spoken in the voices of women pioneers of flight — right here.

Have fun exploring The Poetry of US!

Poetry Friday: A Visit to the Sea Turtle Hospital

Brenda Harsham is hosting Poetry Friday this week. You’ll find poetry links from around the kidlitosphere at her blog, Friendly Fairy Tales.

Happy Poetry Friday, readers! It’s good to be back after a long hiatus.

In September, I visited the Florida Keys on a book research trip with writing friends. One of them, author and science educator Timanda Wertz, suggested that we visit the Sea Turtle Hospital in Marathon, Florida.

I learned so much about sea turtles. Funniest (and saddest) is that when sea turtles’ shells are damaged by a boat strike, air can become trapped in the healing carapace. That makes it difficult for the turtles to dive for food — a syndrome called Bubble Butt.

Yeah, I laughed too. The syndrome takes its name from a permanent resident of the hospital. (You can see photos of the original Bubble Butt here.) Turtles with Bubble Butt don’t do well in the wild, so they come to live at the hospital.

 

 

 

 

 

This was the highlight of the entire trip for me. (Author admission: It was even better than visiting Judy Blume’s bookstore in Key West.)

 

 

 

There were some brand new hatchlings among the turtles we visited…

 

 

 

 

 

… but my favorite was this guy. Look at that face!

 

 

 

 

 

Here is a sea turtle poem from the online journal Rattle.

Mary H. Palmer, RN, C, PhD

THE SEA TURTLE

Shoulder-deep in the sea turtle’s nest,
I search for remains, nothing alive.
The tiny turtles would have climbed
over each other, forming a living ladder
out of their sandy birth canal
leaving only the unhatched and dead behind.
Mongoose would have gotten any stragglers.
I am here only to count egg shells.
My hand reaches bottom and scoops up
sand and bits of leathery shells. In their midst,
I find a black soft lump, a hatchling left behind.
It remains listless until I gently stroke its belly
until its life flickers and catches hold
as a flame lays claim to a
candle wick.
It doesn’t have much of a chance.
Pelicans already circle. But waiting until night
so it can follow the moon to the
water is a death sentence too. I place it on
the sloping beach and whisper a prayer.