The Sleepy Barn on Clover Hill

On top of a gentle green hill, there was a big red barn called Clover Hill Farm. Every evening, when the sun melted like a golden peach behind the meadow, all the animals would begin to feel their eyes grow heavy. The old rooster would tuck his beak under his wing and whisper, 'Time to rest, time to rest, the stars are doing the rest.' And one by one, the animals would listen.

Bessie the brown-and-white cow walked slowly into the barn, her hooves making soft thud-thud sounds on the straw. She found her favorite corner, where the hay was piled up tall and smelled like sweet summer grass. She lay down with a long, slow breath. 'Mmmoooo,' she sighed softly, and the warm air of the barn seemed to sigh right along with her.

In the next stall, three little pink piglets named Pip, Penny, and Pudge were going in circles, trying to decide where to sleep. 'Here!' said Pip. 'No, here!' said Penny. Little Pudge simply plopped down right in the middle and closed her eyes. Her sisters looked at each other, then snuggled up on either side of her, soft and round like three little pink clouds. 'Time to rest, time to rest, the stars are doing the rest,' they oinked quietly together.

Clover the woolly white sheep wandered to the wide barn door and peeked out at the night sky. The stars were coming out one by one, twinkling like tiny silver seeds scattered across a dark blue blanket. 'One star,' she said softly, 'two stars, three stars.' Her fluffy wool felt warm and soft all around her, like wearing the coziest sweater in the world. By the time she counted seven stars, her eyes were already beginning to close.

Ned was a tall chestnut horse with a dark silky mane, and every night he would hum a little tune to help everyone feel sleepy. It wasn't a loud tune. It was soft and low and rumbly, like thunder very far away but gentle and kind. The other animals loved Ned's humming. It made the straw feel softer and the air feel warmer. 'Time to rest, time to rest, the stars are doing the rest,' Ned hummed slowly.

Up on the wooden roost, Mama Hen and her four little chicks were settling in for the night. She spread her big warm wings wide and all four chicks shuffled underneath, like they were burrowing into a soft feather pillow. 'Tuck in, little ones,' she clucked quietly. The chicks peeped tiny sleepy peeps as they felt her warmth wrap all around them. Outside, a cricket sang one long, slow song.

The round white moon floated up above Clover Hill and peeked through the barn window, painting everything in a soft silver glow. Bessie was breathing slowly. The piglets were snoring tiny little snores. Clover the sheep was fast asleep, her wool glowing white in the moonlight. Ned had stopped humming, and even the hens were perfectly still. The whole barn was breathing together, slowly, slowly, slowly.

And so the big red barn on Clover Hill grew quiet and warm, tucked under the wide starry sky. Every animal was safe, every animal was cozy, every animal was dreaming soft and gentle dreams. The wind moved through the clover flowers outside, and if you listened very carefully, you might just hear a whisper floating on the breeze. 'Time to rest, time to rest, the stars are doing the rest.' Goodnight, little one. Goodnight.