the moon asks a question

The moon asked the sun, “What do you know of love?”

“It burns,” said the sun. “It brightens. It is something you make and then give away.”

“Don’t listen to him,” said the clouds. “This big ball of gas doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Yes, I do,” said the sun. “Who but me makes the roses grow?”

“We do,” said the clouds. “Love nourishes, like the rain. We turn the hills green and fill the creeks so they will sing in their creekbeds.”

“Why do you ask?” said the sun.

“I think I might be in love,” said the moon. “I am trying to understand.”