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.