Dad tossed the ball into the air in front of him and popped a fly out of the shadow and into the sunlight. The sun splashed onto one side of the ball, splashed it cool and white against the cool and darkening sky. The ball spun, and began to fall, and Bobby positioned himself under it, held his glove out not for a whole ball, but just a piece of one, because it looked like just a piece of one, a slice of ball, the slice splashed extra white in the high sunlight.
Bobby waited for that little bit of ball to come down, and suddenly he understood the moon.
oh, how neat is THAT!
ReplyDelete...that is such a great piece of writing... a wonderful description of how inspiration happens and can be taken in by the mind that is open to its suggestion...
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