Goodnight, Little Village

The sun slid down behind the neem tree. The sky turned orange, then pink, then a soft dark blue. In the little village, it was time for bed.

Goodnight, brown cow. The brown cow folded her legs and sat down in the straw. Moo, she said, very quietly.

Goodnight, old well. The bucket hung still on its rope. The water below was dark and smooth, like a mirror for the stars.

Goodnight, red bicycle. It leaned against the wall with its bell asleep. Tring, said nobody at all.

Goodnight, little shop. The shopkeeper pulled down the shutter. Khrrr. He yawned a big yawn and walked home.

Goodnight, yellow dog. The yellow dog turned around once, turned around twice, and curled up on the step with his nose under his tail.

Goodnight, sparrows. They sat in a row inside the tree, fluffed up like small round balls. Not one of them said cheep.

Goodnight, lamp in the window. The lamp burned low. Its light grew small and warm and sleepy.

And in the last house of the village, a mother pulled a blanket up to a small chin.

Goodnight, little one. The cow is asleep. The well is asleep. The bicycle, the shop, the dog and the sparrows are asleep.

Now it is your turn. Goodnight.