Poppo and the Sleepy Sky Meadow

High above the sleepy village of Willowdale, where rooftops glowed gold in the evening light, lived a tiny cloud-shepherd named Poppo. Every night, as the sun tucked itself behind the hills, Poppo climbed the silver ladder of moonbeams to the Sky Meadow, where soft, fluffy clouds grazed like gentle sheep.

One evening, Poppo noticed a small cloud named Wisp had wandered too close to the moon and glowed far too bright to fall asleep. She twirled and sparkled, wide awake, while all her cloud friends yawned and drifted toward their favorite resting spots.

Poppo walked softly to Wisp and hummed an old hush-song his grandmother had taught him, a tune as gentle as falling snow. He brushed a little stardust over her edges, and slowly, slowly, Wisp's glow softened into a warm, sleepy silver.

One by one, Poppo guided every cloud back to its cushiony spot in the meadow, spreading a blanket of moonlight over them all. Down below, in Willowdale, the last lit window flickered out, and children curled deeper into their quilts, dreaming sweet dreams carried on the night breeze.

When the whole Sky Meadow lay hushed and glowing softly, Poppo yawned and curled up on his own cloud-pillow beside gentle Wisp. The moon smiled down, keeping watch over shepherd and clouds alike, until morning light would come to wake them all again.