Kids & Fables

by Scribe Leaf Library · 1 min read · 0 views

A small cloud named Nimby spent every day drifting high above a meadow, watching the flowers and rivers and children below, wishing more than anything that she could come down and touch the ground the way they got to touch the sky simply by looking up at it. The wind told her clouds weren't meant to touch the ground, that it wasn't in a cloud's nature, and for a long while she believed him and stayed high and distant and a little sad about it. Then one warm afternoon, without deciding to, she felt herself growing heavy with all the water she'd been quietly gathering, and before she understood what was happening, she was falling, gently, as rain, straight into the meadow she'd watched for so long. She touched the ground after all — every blade of grass, every upturned face, every thirsty root — not as a single cloud anymore, but as a thousand small drops, everywhere at once. It wasn't what she'd expected. It was better. She'd spent so long wanting to visit the ground that she never imagined she might get to become part of it instead.