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High above the sleepy town of Duskmere floated a small, round cloud named Mira, softer than cotton and the color of warm milk. Every evening, just as the sun tucked itself behind the hills, Mira began her favorite job: catching lullabies that floated up from windows below.
She caught the hum of a mother rocking her baby, the gentle notes of a grandfather's old song, and even the quiet purring of a sleepy cat curled by the fire. One by one, Mira gathered these soft sounds into her fluffy middle, where they glowed like tiny golden fireflies.
When her cloud belly was full of warm, cozy songs, Mira drifted slowly over the rooftops of Duskmere. She tipped ever so gently, letting a fine, silvery rain fall — not wet rain, but a rain of gentle hums and soft whispers that floated down like feathers.
The lullaby rain landed on windowsills and pillows, tickling the eyelashes of children who were still awake. One by one, eyes grew heavy, blankets were pulled up snug, and soft yawns filled the little houses of Duskmere.
Mira smiled down at the quiet town, now full of sleeping children and gentle dreams. She curled herself up like a sleepy kitten among the stars, ready to rest until tomorrow evening, when she would gather brand-new lullabies once again.
