The Cloud Shepherd of Hollow Hill

High above the village of Hollow Hill, a small boy named Rumi lived with his grandmother in a cottage made of soft moss and warm lanterns. Every evening, as the sun tucked itself behind the mountains, Rumi climbed to the rooftop with his silver crook to begin his favorite job — shepherding the cloud-sheep home to rest.

The cloud-sheep drifted lazily across the darkening sky, soft and round like puffs of warm milk. Rumi gently guided them with his crook, humming a slow tune, as they floated one by one into the great Cloud Pen behind the moon.

But one little cloud-sheep, named Marshmallow, always wandered off to chase the twinkling fireflies instead of going to sleep. Every night Rumi found her giggling near the old willow tree, bouncing instead of resting.

Tonight, Rumi sat beside Marshmallow and sang the lullaby his grandmother once sang to him, soft as a whisper and slow as a yawn. Marshmallow's fluffy edges grew heavy, her giggles turned into gentle puffs, and at last she floated peacefully into the Cloud Pen with the others.

Rumi smiled, tucked his crook under his arm, and climbed back down as the whole sky glowed with sleeping clouds and quiet stars. Somewhere below, his grandmother waited with a warm blanket, ready to sing him the very same lullaby until his own eyes drifted closed.