Poppy and the Cloud-Watching Seat

“That stump looks just right,” Poppy said, just as Carter hopped onto it.

The young fox stopped at the edge of the woodland clearing. The stump was low and broad, with a smooth top just big enough for one fox—or one rabbit, if the rabbit sat very still.

Carter tucked his paws beneath him. “Oh! Were you coming to sit here?”

“I was,” said Poppy. “I wanted a comfortable place to watch the evening clouds.”

Carter looked up. Above the trees, long clouds sailed across the open patch of sky. One looked like a loaf of bread. Another looked like a sleepy whale.

“I came to visit my aunt,” Carter said. “She lives in the burrow beyond those ferns. I saw the clouds and stopped for a look.”

“Rabbits and foxes both live in woodlands,” Poppy said. “So I suppose we can both enjoy the same clearing.”

“Of course,” said Carter. He glanced at the stump. “I didn’t mean to take your seat.”

“You didn’t know it was my seat,” Poppy replied. “And it isn’t really my seat. I just hoped to sit there.”

Poppy circled the stump, trying to find a place beside Carter. One side was lumpy with roots. The other had a prickly twig leaning against it. She sat down on the grass and wiggled until her tail was tucked beneath her.

“Is that comfortable?” Carter asked.

“Not quite,” said Poppy. “The ground has a bump right under my elbow.”

She shifted. The bump moved to her hip.

Carter gave a small chuckle. “That’s a very sneaky bump.”

Poppy laughed, too. She stretched her paws toward the stump and gazed at the clouds. A breeze carried the smell of pine needles and cool earth. Somewhere in the brush, a bird gave one last chirp.

“I can still see the clouds from here,” Poppy said, “but I’d like a better seat.”

Carter looked around the clearing. “Maybe there’s another place we haven’t noticed.”

Poppy stood and brushed grass from her paws. “Let’s look carefully. The best seat might be closer than we think.”

Poppy and Carter searched without rushing. They peered behind the stump, where they found a curled leaf and a beetle walking home. They looked beside a patch of ferns, where Carter spotted a feather.

“Not a seat,” he said, “unless you’re a very tiny bird.”

Poppy giggled. Then she noticed something flat and gray near the edge of the clearing. A broad stone rested there, half covered by fallen leaves.

“Look!” she said. “That stone might make a fine seat.”

She brushed away the leaves with her paw. The stone was wide enough for Carter, and its top was smooth. Poppy tested it with one paw. It didn’t wobble.

“Would you like it?” she asked. “You can sit there while I take the stump.”

Carter hopped down from the stump. “That’s kind of you. But if I sit on the stone, I’ll be farther from the clouds.”

Poppy looked from the stone to the stump. Then she looked up. The bread-shaped cloud had become a boat, and the sleepy whale was trailing behind it.

“What if we trade places now and then?” she suggested. “You can watch from the stone first. Then I’ll sit there for a while, and you can try the stump.”

Carter’s ears lifted. “A cloud-watching trade!”

“Exactly,” said Poppy. “We can each try both seats.”

Carter settled on the stone. Poppy hopped onto the stump. From up there, the clouds seemed to sail right over the tops of the trees. She pointed with her nose.

“That one looks like a rabbit carrying a basket,” she said.

Carter squinted. “I see the basket. But I think the rabbit is carrying a very large carrot.”

Poppy laughed so hard her paws slid on the smooth stump. She steadied herself, then climbed down carefully.

“Your turn on the stump,” she said.

Carter took his place. “And yours on the stone.”

Poppy curled her tail around her paws. The stone held her snugly, and she could see every cloud. Carter found that the stump was roomy after all, once he sat near its middle.

“Both seats are good,” he said.

“Especially with a friend to trade with,” Poppy replied.

Together they watched the cloud-boat sail past the tree tops, while the little clearing grew quiet around them.

For a while, neither of them said much. The clouds changed shape as they traveled. The boat became a long-eared dog, then a teapot with a crooked spout.

“Do you think the teapot is pouring rain?” Carter whispered.

Poppy tilted her head. “No. I think it’s pouring tiny clouds into a cup.”

Carter smiled. “I’d like a cup of cloud tea.”

“What would it taste like?” asked Poppy.

“Like warm clover,” he said. “And a little bit like carrots.”

Poppy pretended to sip from an invisible cup. “Mine tastes like pine needles and berries.”

They took turns naming shapes until the clouds grew thin and spread out. The clearing was still, except for the leaves rustling overhead. Poppy could hear a night bird calling from somewhere deep among the trees.

Carter looked toward the ferns. “My aunt will be wondering where I am.”

“And my den is just past that fallen log,” said Poppy. “I should head home, too.”

They climbed down from their seats. Carter brushed a leaf from the stone, and Poppy patted the stump with one paw.

“Thank you for sharing,” Carter said. “I might have missed the best view if I’d stayed on just one seat.”

“I might have missed it, too,” said Poppy. “The stone is much more comfortable than the bumpy grass.”

They walked together to the edge of the clearing, where their paths parted. Carter’s way curved toward the ferns, and Poppy’s led beneath the tall pines.

“Good night, Poppy,” Carter called.

“Good night, Carter. Come visit again.”

“I will,” he said. “Maybe we’ll find a cloud that looks like a stump.”

Poppy chuckled. “Or a stump that looks like a cloud.”

When the last cloud faded into the dusky sky, Poppy and Carter said good night once more and headed for their separate homes, carrying the quiet of the clearing with them.