She tucked the twins into bed

With the sun

Both children tired and ready to rest.

Darkness fell quickly

Warm, fragrant and black.

Night creatures were instantly busy.

 

Clinking about with pots and pans

She finished evening chores

And made a tasty sandwich

For Daddy's late night return

Weary and hungry.

Suddenly, the faintest call:

'Mummy. Mummy,' plaintively.

She went quickly to the bedroom.

'Sssshhh, Sweetie. Don't waken your sister.

What's the matter?'

She dropped a kiss into soft curls.

 

'I can't get to sleep.

Tell the stars to be quiet. They're too noisy!'

So upset, close to tears.

 

'The stars, Honey?'

 

'Yes! Just listen to them.

All the stars talking – talking so loud!

Tell them to stop.

I can't get to sleep!'

 

'Well ... Ahhh …

That noise isn't the stars, Love.

The palms and bushes around our house

Are full of little frogs

No bigger than your thumb.

Hundreds of them.

They come out at night

Mummies and daddies and children

To eat and play and chat.

And they do have a big, chirpy croak

For such small creatures.

You're right. They are noisy!

But now that you know what they are

If you listen to them for a bit

Without feeling cross

I don't think they will seem so loud -

Just interesting.'

 

Five minutes later she tiptoed back to check.

The child was fast asleep

Still smiling.

 

 

 

 

Cynthia Buell Thomas, March, 2018