The poet describes their child's drawings of a "moon-faced man" with a trunk-like body and tree-like limbs. Recently the drawings have included spikes and craters for eyes. As the child adds words for the man to throw, a storm begins to brew. The poet sees themselves as the keeper of memories and the recorder of their child's early days. They sense their child is preparing for a journey where their current self will one day be in the distant past, like a crumpled moon shedding its skin of the present day.