Ten Little Lights

Bedtime settles over the pond. Ten lights shine. Hold up ten fingers. Can you find them? There, there, and there. But which blinks first?

Ten. The firefly dips to warm grass. “Thank you, warm grass.” Blink. Out goes one tiny glow. Nine remain. One more light, then night.

Nine. The jetty lantern hums. “Thank you, hands that lit me.” Click. Its golden circle closes. Eight lights wait across the water.

Eight. A star trembles in the pond. “Thank you, still water.” Splish. The star slips from sight. Seven remain. One more light, then night.

Seven. The glow-worm curls in soft moss. “Thank you, soft moss.” Its green gleam grows small. Six lights are waiting.

Six. The hill window glows. “Thank you, goodnight wave.” Swish. A curtain closes. Five lights remain. One more light, then night.

Five. The boathouse candle gives a tiny dance. “Thank you, snug room.” Pff. A silver thread rises. Four lights shine more softly.

Four. The fisherman’s lamp rocks once. “Thank you, quiet boat.” Tap, tap. Darkness tucks into the boat. Three remain. One more light, then night.

Three. Far away, the lighthouse winks. “Thank you, rolling sea.” Wink. Hush. Two lights breathe beside the pond.

Two. The last ember sighs in stones. “Thank you, warm stones.” Fff. Its red eye dims. One light now. Look up.

One. The moon floats above everything. She never needs to sleep. So nobody else has to stay awake. A pale path rests on the pond. “Thank you, sleepy pond. I’ll stay.”

The End