The judges loved this homage to the time-honored Japanese tradition of tsukimi (moon viewing) — a universal moment which influences in deeply subtle ways and makes human life worth living. This short piece by C. Greenstreet, “Sudden Tsukimi”, was a very close contender for the competition’s top prize due to its superb imagery, connecting the celestial with the seemingly mundane by referencing everyday Kyoto settings such as supermarkets and public transportation. Observing the moon brings strangers together in concentrated harmony, and to reside in Kyoto is an invitation to savor such rich encounters with nature on a regular basis.

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Sudden Tsukimi

We stopped for tsukimi by the darkened delta of the Kamogawa. None of us intended to pause our post-work slog from the station, but it was too glorious to ignore. Our silhouettes arranged on the bridge, all strangers, to witness its arrival over the mountain shadows in the east.

Hushed voices as we bathed in the moonlight, rich and yellow like the yolk of a good egg. The murmuring river carried on below our feet, glimmering like our faces, now alive.

Elsewhere we would not see each other so. On the train, in line at the Fresco, waiting dutifully at the crosswalk of an empty street. No full golden moonlight, and here too it soon passed.

Our shadows scattered, dragging along pieces of that light. In our phones, in our poems, in our thoughts as we softly slid back izakaya doors. We’d needed the moon to lift our gazes, a brief celestial reminder to be human.

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C. Greenstreet is an American archivist whose fascination with historical curiosities began in Kyoto, where he spent several years living, learning, and exploring. When not organizing old things, he writes as much as he can and edits the burgeoning whimsical horror magazine, Kyoto Cryptids.