Sweetie and the Sleepy Barn

The sun dipped behind the Montana hills, and the farm was turning gold and blue in the evening light.

Inside the barn, Sweetie, the little goat, curled into her warm straw bed beside her mama, Sailer.

The air smelled like hay and sweet feed.

Everything should have been quiet.

But it wasn’t.

THUMP.

BOUNCE.

MOOOO.

Sweetie lifted her head.

“What was that?” She whispered.

From across the barn came a loud voice.

“It was Rowdy,” sighed Sally the cow.

Little Rowdy kicked his feet and bounced in circles beside his sister Daisy.

“I am not sleepy yet!” Yelled Rowdy.

“You said that yesterday, too,” Daisy replied.

Sweetie giggled softly.

Near the corner stall, Ginger carefully lay down with a sleepy sigh.

Her belly was round with babies who would arrive very soon.

“I hope these little ones like bedtime,” Ginger murmured.

“They will,” Hannah said gently.

“And if they don’t,” Dixie added. “We’ll all help.”

From high on a wooden beam, Frank puffed out his feathers proudly.

“A proper barn should be asleep by now,” he announced.

Charles flapped beside him.

“That is exactly what I was about to say.”

Nobody believed him.

Then a loud sound rattled the whole barn.

SNORRRRRK.

Popsicle, the buck was fast asleep already.

Sweetie laughed so hard she nearly tipped over into the straw.

Outside, crickets sang in the grass.

Inside, the barn slowly settled down.

Rowdy curled beside Daisy.

Frank tucked his head beneath his wing.

Even Charles stopped talking for one full minute.

Sweetie snuggled close to her mama and looked out the barn door at the silver moon hanging over the pasture.

The farm was sleepy now.

Safe now.

Quiet now.

And one by one, beneath the soft Montana stars, every animal drifted off to sleep.

The end—