Bruno the Little Bear and the End of a Big Day
Deep in a whispering pine forest, under a hill soft with moss, there was a warm little den. And in that den lived Bruno, the smallest bear of the whole wood.
What a day Bruno had had. He had followed the humming bees to a hollow tree and dipped one careful paw in the sweet golden honey. He had splashed in the cold, bright stream until his fur stood up in wet little spikes. He had rolled down the mossy hill — once, twice, three times — and climbed back up to do it again. He had chased his own shadow across the sunny clearing until they both grew tired.
Now the sun was sinking low and orange behind the trees, and the forest was turning cool and blue. But Bruno did not want to stop. "There's still more day left," he grumbled, tumbling in circles. "I'm not done yet."
Mama Bear watched from the mouth of the den, warm and calm. "Come here, little one," she said softly.
Bruno flopped down beside her with a huff. Mama Bear wrapped one big, gentle arm around him and pointed out at the forest.
"Look," she whispered. "The bees have gone home. The stream has gone quiet. The birds have tucked their heads beneath their wings. Everyone has done their day — and now it's time to rest."
Bruno looked. And it was true. The clearing where he'd played was still. The hill he'd rolled down was dim and soft. The whole busy day had folded itself up, quiet and complete.
"A day doesn't disappear when you sleep," Mama Bear murmured. "It waits, all finished and safe, and a brand-new one comes in the morning."
Bruno gave an enormous yawn that squeaked at the end. His busy paws went still. His heavy eyes went soft.
Mama Bear drew him close into the warm den, where the moss was deep and the dark was kind. "Goodnight, my Bruno," she said. "The day is done, and you did all of it."
And the smallest bear of the whole wood, curled up warm against his mama, let the big day go — and fell fast asleep.