Sun’s court danced through the endless black ballroom, faces turned admiring toward her.
Sun gazed into the distance, uncaring as befitted her station. However, she inclined her golden
ear as her third admirer spun by, circled by a twirling attendant. The attendant, an unglamorous
thing that stole what little radiance he had from Sun herself, was speaking.
“Aren’t you bothered by those lice, yet, Earth?”
Earth pivoted slightly, glancing at herself. She smiled. “Yes, I suppose they are rather
annoying. They crawl about so much it begins to tickle.”
“Why don’t you get rid of them, then?”
Earth lowered her voice. Moon leaned closer to hear and Earth pressed her oceans toward
him. “Truth be told – and don’t go gossiping, now – I’m growing a bit fond of them.” Clouds
swirled across Earth’s blue depths in embarrassment.
“Fond?” Moon leaned back again. The oceans slumped into their beds, ashamed. “How
The clouds swirled harder. “Well, you don’t hear what they say.”
“What do they say?”
The two little admirers swung around in front of Sun. Earth’s blue depths glittered
in a smile. “They call me mother. Mother Earth.”
“Pff,” Moon snorted.
Earth wasn’t paying attention. “They think they have to save me.” She laughed, cooling
breezes blowing across her belt.