Pipkin’s Sunbeam Tag — Under his cool stone ledge, Pipkin tapped eight soft feet and made up a game called Sunbeam Tag. Read the full story →
Under his cool stone ledge, Pipkin tapped eight soft feet and made up a game called Sunbeam Tag. The rule was simple: tag the last stripe of sunlight before it slipped behind the mesa, then bring its warmth back for everyone hiding from the chilly dusk. Outside, the sand smelled dusty and sweet, and the wind made the dry grass whisper, hush-hush.
Pipkin hurried past pebble lumps and prickly shadows, but the sunbeam kept sliding away. A cactus no taller than a beetle lifted two green arms. “Your shadow is long enough,” it said. Pipkin looked back. His own fuzzy legs stretched across the sand like eight bridges. To tag the light, he had to stand on the big open rock where hawk shapes sometimes crossed. His knees trembled, but the stone still held the day’s heat, warm as toast.
He touched the shining edge just as it turned orange. The color spilled over his hairs, soft and bright, and the cactus giggled because joy that large could not stay in one creature. Pipkin carried the glow home, not in a jar or pouch, but in a new rule: anyone could tag a sunbeam with a shadow. Next time you see his long legs near that tiny cactus, can you guess where the game began under his cool stone ledge?
