Crescent moon, the shape of my nails grabbing at the world, peeling paint and unpicking knots, covered in chalk or dirt underneath, evidence of life lived, tying shoes so they, too, can run off and pry up rocks to peer at the worlds underneath
The moon glowed above the tree tops. The tiny crescent putting out an unfathomable amount of light, illuminating the pines and oaks on their utmost edges.
Crescent moon, the shape of my nails grabbing at the world, peeling paint and unpicking knots, covered in chalk or dirt underneath, evidence of life lived, tying shoes so they, too, can run off and pry up rocks to peer at the worlds underneath
The moon glowed above the tree tops. The tiny crescent putting out an unfathomable amount of light, illuminating the pines and oaks on their utmost edges.