The Night the Rain Sang Everyone to Sleep
Night was falling over the meadow, and in a warm, snug burrow under the roots of an old tree, a little rabbit was tucked up in bed. But she could not sleep. Outside, the rain had begun to fall — pitter, patter, pitter, patter — against the leaves and the earth, and she didn't like it one bit.
"I don't like the rain," she said, pulling her blanket up to her nose. "It's loud. It's dark. It taps and taps and won't stop."
Her grandmother, curled up warm nearby, listened for a moment to the sound. "Ah," she said softly. "But do you know what the rain is doing, little one? The rain is singing. It's singing everyone to sleep."
"Singing?" said the little rabbit.
"Listen," said Grandmother. "Really listen."
So the little rabbit lay very still, and listened. And slowly, the taps and patters didn't sound loud or scary anymore. They sounded soft. They sounded gentle. They sounded like the kindest, quietest song in the world.
Pitter-patter on the leaves — that was the rain singing to the trees, and the trees were falling asleep. Pitter-patter on the pond — that was the rain singing to the fish, and the fish were drifting down to rest. Pitter-patter on the roof of the burrow — soft and warm and close — that was the rain singing to her.
"It's singing to everyone," the little rabbit whispered. "The whole world is being tucked in."
"Every leaf and every field," said Grandmother. "Every bird in every nest, and every rabbit in every burrow. The rain sings, and the whole wide world grows sleepy together."
The little rabbit snuggled deep into her warm, dry blanket, safe and cosy while the gentle song fell all around outside. Pitter… patter… slower now, and softer, like a lullaby winding down.
And rocked by the sound of the rain singing the whole world to sleep, the little rabbit closed her eyes, and slept.