The Shy Sky

The next morning, the meadow was bathed in a brilliant blue. Wobble, scampering ahead of Muffin, suddenly skidded to a halt. He looked up, up, up, his little head tilted so far back he almost toppled over.

"Mama!" he chirped, his voice full of a brand-new, enormous question. "Why is the sky so blue? My teacher says it's, like, light scattering or something." He made a funny face, trying to copy his teacher's serious tone.

Muffin chuckled, nudging him gently with her nose. "Oh, little one, that's what they want you to think." Her eyes twinkled playfully. "It's actually because the clouds get shy when they're naked, so they wear special blue pajamas during the day."

Wobble looked up, eyes wide with a mix of wonder and a tiny bit of confusion, as if trying to picture giant, fluffy clouds in blue nightclothes."

Poem Of The Day

Deep in a quiet creek bed, lay a smooth, grey pebble. It remembered the roar of the great ocean, where it had once tumbled and danced with waves taller than trees. Now, when the little creek water trickled over it, the pebble would hum a tiny, secret song – a melody of crashing foam and salty breezes, a lullaby of the vast, deep blue. If you pressed your ear close enough, the creek might whisper its ancient, ocean heart.