"Set'm up Joe," said the Moon.
"What'll ya have?" Old Joe coos.
"Suprise me, but serve it neat."
He slowed sipped his nightly drink.
Then swinging doors began to creak, and in popped the Sun, 'toot sweet'.
"Well, come on in, ya ole-space-dog. Looks like you got the Moon on the dodge."
"Serve me something red and fast." Then he drained the cup and wiped his head.
The East Wind settled down, entering from the end of town. "Give me a sup of lavender's best. Cause I'm fighting with the West Wind, and brother, you can guess the rest."
"Last call." Joe decrees and in waltzes the Southern Breeze. Now time did stall as she blew by, for rare is her passing and what a sweet surprise.