Nora and the Quiet Moon

High in the old oak tree, Nora the owl sat in her cozy nest. The nest was soft and warm. The night was quiet and kind.

Nora blinked her sleepy eyes. Something soft was glowing through the leaves. It was the moon, big and round and pale.

"Hello, moon," Nora whispered.

She felt something warm in her chest. A small, gentle feeling, like being hugged.

Nora wanted to be a little closer. So she hopped to the edge of her branch. She looked out at the quiet world.

Below, the meadow was silver and still. The moon shone on every soft thing. It shone on the grass. It shone on the pond. It shone on a sleepy deer, curled up in the ferns.

The deer yawned. "The moon is so soft tonight," she said.

"It is," said Nora. "Do you feel it too? Warm, right here?" She touched her own fluffy chest.

The deer nodded slowly. "Right here," she said. And she closed her eyes.

Nora watched the moon a little longer. The moon did not hurry. The moon just glowed, soft and slow.

It was watching over the meadow. It was watching over the deer. It was watching over Nora, too.

Hush now, hush now. The night grew softer still.

Nora hopped back to her cozy nest. The moonlight followed her, gentle and pale. It tucked itself around her like a blanket.

The first little stars blinked awake. One. Then two. Then too many to count.

Nora fluffed her feathers. She gave a long, slow yawn. Her eyes felt heavy and warm.

The moon glowed softly through the leaves.

"Goodnight, moon," Nora whispered.

Hush now. Hush now.

Nora closed her sleepy eyes. The moon kept watch, soft and slow.

Warm, and safe, and home.

Goodnight, little owl. Goodnight.