Tansy’s Little Raindrop

“Just one drop,” said Tansy. “I’ll carry it all the way down.”

She floated above a meadow, where the moonflowers lifted their pale faces toward the moon. Their stems reached up between sleepy grasses, and their petals were still open, though not for long. Tansy could see one flower below whose leaves drooped like tired little hands.

Bo, her best friend, drifted beside her. “That one looks thirsty,” he said.

“It is,” said Tansy. “I want to bring it a drink before it folds up for the night.”

A tiny raindrop gathered on Tansy’s cloud. It was round as a bead and clear as a little piece of sky.

“Ready?” asked Bo.

“Ready.” Tansy leaned down toward the flower.

The drop slid across her soft cloud. Tansy tipped the other way, but the drop slid faster. Plip! It fell through the air and landed in the meadow grass.

“Oh,” said Tansy.

Bo peered down. “The grass gets a drink, at least.”

“But not the moonflower,” Tansy said. “I’ll try again.”

She waited until another drop gathered, then held her cloud as still as she could. The drop rested near the middle.

“Slow and steady,” Bo said.

Tansy floated down a little. A small breeze nudged her cloud. The drop rolled toward the edge.

“Stay there, little drop,” Tansy whispered.

The drop slipped off and fell into the grass.

Tansy looked at her cloud. It was soft and shifting, changing shape wherever the breeze touched it. “Maybe I need to make myself firmer,” she said. “Then the drop won’t roll.”

She squeezed her cloud tight. Its wispy edges drew in, and its middle became stiff. The new drop stayed in place.

“There!” said Bo. “You’ve got it.”

Tansy tried to float down. But her firm cloud barely moved. She pushed and bobbed, while the moonflower waited below, its petals beginning to draw closer together.

“I can hold the drop,” Tansy said, “but I can’t reach the flower.”

Bo stayed beside her. “Let’s look at your cloud. Maybe there’s another way.”

Tansy eased her squeezed shape, watching the drop and the flower below.

The moonflower’s petals drew closer, one by one. Tansy watched them and tried not to hurry. When she squeezed her cloud tight, she could keep a drop from rolling, but she could not float down. When she loosened herself, she could float, but the drop slipped away.

“I wish I could be soft and firm at the same time,” she said.

Bo tilted his cloud thoughtfully. “Could one little part be firm, while the rest stays soft?”

Tansy looked at the edge of her cloud. The breeze brushed it, and the edge curled back toward her, like a blanket turning over.

“Wait,” she said. “I can make a small pocket.”

She curled one edge inward. It made a shallow hollow, no bigger than a raindrop. The rest of her cloud stayed loose and airy.

Bo smiled. “That might hold it.”

“Let’s see.” Tansy waited for a new drop to gather. When it formed, she guided it gently toward the hollow. The drop rolled once, then settled in the little dip.

Tansy drifted sideways, testing the little hollow as she moved. The drop stayed in place.

She bobbed upward, then down. The drop stayed put again.

“It works!” Bo said.

Tansy looked at the moonflower. Only a small opening remained between its petals. “Now I need to be careful.”

“I’ll stay right beside you,” said Bo.

Tansy floated downward. She let the breeze carry her, and kept her cloud loose. The hollow cradled the raindrop as she passed the tall meadow flowers. Their leaves brushed the air below her, but she did not rush.

When Tansy reached the moonflower, she hovered just above its open petals.

“Here you are,” she whispered.

She tipped the curled edge of her cloud. The tiny drop slid from its hollow and landed in the flower’s center.

The moonflower lifted its face. Its leaves slowly unfurled, and its petals held the raindrop like a small, cool treasure.

Tansy’s cloud gave a pleased little wobble. “One drop,” she said. “Just enough.”

Bo drifted closer. “And you stayed soft enough to float.”

Tansy glanced at the curled edge of her cloud. “I only needed a little place to hold it.”

The moonflower began folding its petals around the drink. Tansy and Bo rose together above the meadow, leaving the flower to close at its own gentle pace.

Tansy floated back up beside Bo. Her cloud loosened in the night air, though one edge kept its little curl. She was pleased with its new curve. A raindrop could nestle safely in that small hollow.

“Will you keep it?” Bo asked.

“I think so,” said Tansy. “You never know when a flower might need a drink.”

Below them, the moonflower folded its petals around the drop. Its stem stood a little straighter. A nearby grasshopper tucked itself beneath a leaf, and the meadow grew quiet.

Tansy and Bo drifted over the tops of the flowers. They passed a tall clover patch, where each round leaf held a bead of dew. Tansy watched the beads sit snugly in the curved leaves.

“Those leaves have little pockets, too,” she said.

Bo nodded. “The meadow is full of clever shapes.”

They rested above a patch of daisies. Their white petals were folded for the night, and their dark centers faced the moon. Tansy let her cloud spread wide again. The curled edge remained, small and comfortable.

“Does your cloud feel tired?” Bo asked.

“A little,” said Tansy. “But the nice kind of tired.”

Bo settled alongside her. Together they floated without choosing a direction. A slow breeze carried them over the meadow, past the closed daisies and the moonflower, now tucked around its drink.

Tansy looked down once more. She could not see the raindrop anymore, but she knew where it was: safe inside the flower’s petals, helping the flower rest.

“I’m glad we tried,” she said.

“So am I,” Bo replied. “Your cloud found just the right shape.”

Tansy’s curled edge rested against Bo’s cloud. They stayed there above the flowers, quiet as two small clouds can be. The moon watched over the meadow, and the night air carried them gently along while Tansy settled beside her friend.