By Kevin DeLuca
Four sailors went abroad to ensnare Moment in their nets.
At break of day they went forth; and the wind yelled in their sails, and the gulls flashed them by, and the cliffs rose and fell away behind them; and come noontide they sailed to a cove where the sun lulls the waves and Moment is wont to swim.
The day long they stood, poised with spear and net. Here they glimpsed it lolling amid shoals, or there swimming neath flashes of sun.
Yet Moment proved elusive, and the sailors, try as they might, threw their nets to no avail, and to no target hurled their spears—but Moment’s scales always gleamed away, laughing.
Cursing their luck, they raised oars, and turned their prow shoreward; and the wind yelled in their sails, and the gulls flashed them by, and the cliffs rose and fell away behind them.
But going homeward they caught Year, for he is clumsy, and huge, and dove headlong into their nets.