The Moon’s Missing Button

A soft sigh rolls across the pond, and Luna looks up to see the moon patting an empty spot on its coat.

“Good evening,” says Luna, the little moth. She is perched on a cattail beside her friend Cricket, who is polishing one muddy shoe with a blade of grass. “Did you lose something?”

“My bright button,” says the moon. Its silver coat has a neat row of round buttons, except for one empty place near the hem. “It must have fallen while I was crossing the sky.”

Luna’s wings lift. She loves questions, especially the kind that lead somewhere. “We’ll find it!”

Cricket puts down the grass. “We’ll look carefully,” he says. “Ponds can make a thing seem to be in a lot of places at once.”

Luna leans over the water. There are buttons everywhere: round pale circles near the reeds, long circles under the lily pads, and one bright circle right beneath her nose.

“That one!” she says.

Cricket taps the water with a reed. The circle breaks into ripples and disappears. “That was the moon’s reflection.”

“Oh,” says Luna. “The pond is full of pretend buttons.”

“Not pretend,” Cricket says. “Just pictures.” He points to the edge of the pond. “Let’s start where a real button might land.”

They search between the roots and under the broad leaves. Luna asks the stars for help. “Have you seen a button fall?”

The stars blink in their places. One sends a thin line of light toward the cattails, but the line bends across the water and points to three more bright circles.

Luna tries to follow it. She flutters to a lily pad, then to a stone, then back to the cattail. Each time, the button seems to move away.

Cricket studies the pond. “If we chase every picture, we’ll be here all night.”

Luna glances up at the moon. It is trying to see its empty coat spot, but the water keeps showing it a different button. “Maybe the moon can help us look,” she says.

The moon tilts its face toward them. Luna has an idea, but first she must find a way to make all those false buttons hold still.

“Moon,” Luna calls, “could you turn slowly for us?”

The moon pauses. “I can try.” It begins to turn, little by little, so the silver buttons on its coat move past the empty place. The pond’s pictures slide along with it. Circles glide over the water, stretching and shrinking whenever a small ripple passes.

Luna watches from the cattail. She does not chase the circles now. She watches the edges of the pond instead.

“Look there,” Cricket says. “That one doesn’t move like the others.”

Beside the cattails, a curled leaf rests just above the water. Its tip is folded like a tiny green cup. Inside it, something round catches the moonlight, then hides again.

Luna flutters close. “I think we found it!”

The leaf bends over the pond. The button sits deep in its curl, too far for Luna to reach without slipping. Cricket braces his feet against the cattail stem.

“I’ll hold the stem,” he says. “You can ease the leaf open.”

Luna settles on the leaf’s edge. She nudges its curled tip with her antennae. The leaf opens a little, then springs shut.

“Maybe it needs a patient touch,” Cricket says.

Luna tries again, slowly. The leaf unfolds as carefully as a sleepy hand. The button rolls toward the rim. Cricket stretches his blade of grass across the opening and stops it just in time.

“Got it!” he says.

The bright button is smaller than Luna’s wing, but it feels heavy in Cricket’s grass sling. Together they carry it along the cattail, then climb onto a flat stone where the moon’s path lies across the pond like a shining bridge.

“Can you reach us?” Luna calls.

The moon lowers one silver beam until it touches the stone. Luna and Cricket step onto it. The beam lifts them gently through the air, carrying them up to the moon’s coat.

Luna places the button in the empty spot. Cricket holds it steady while the moon turns its little clasp. Click!

The button fits snugly in place. The moon runs a hand over its coat and lets out a pleased sigh. “That’s much better,” it says.

Below, the pond settles. Its bright circles gather into one clear moon, and the cattail leaf rests open beside the water.

The moon gives Luna and Cricket a ride back down its silver beam. It lowers them onto the same flat stone, where their feet make two tiny taps.

“Thank you,” says the moon. Its coat lies smooth now, every bright button in its proper place. “I can cross the sky without worrying about my missing spot.”

Luna looks up at the button she helped return. “It was hiding in a leaf.”

“Leaves are good at keeping small things safe,” Cricket says. “Though they aren’t very good at telling anyone where they put them.”

The moon chuckles, a sound like a low note from a faraway bell. It rises a little higher above the pond. Its light falls evenly across the water, the reeds, and the flat stones along the bank.

Luna and Cricket walk to their favorite cattail. The night feels quiet enough to hear a droplet slide from one leaf to another. Somewhere among the stars, a tiny voice calls, “Good work, Luna!”

Luna turns her head. “Thank you,” she calls back. Then she settles beside Cricket, who has found the broadest leaf near the bank. He lifts one edge, making a sheltered nook beneath it.

Luna folds her wings close. Cricket tucks his polished blade of grass beside him. The pond holds the moon’s reflection without breaking it into scattered circles. A sleepy beetle crawls past the stone, and the cattails sway once, then grow still.

Above them, the moon travels on with its button fastened firmly to its silver coat. Its light reaches Luna’s resting wings and Cricket’s quiet shoes. Neither friend has to search anymore.

“Good night, moon,” Luna whispers.

“Good night, pond,” Cricket murmurs.

The moon keeps watch from above while Luna and Cricket curl beneath the broad leaf, listening as the water grows still and the night makes room for rest.