The buttercups sang as the gentle
breeze caressed their lemony-yellow petals. Tiny purple violets joined in,
as did the bright red tulips and maize-colored daffodils. Soon the meadow
was filled with a symphony of music. Tall grasses, in a hundred different
sizes and shades of green, bent from side to side, as if dancing to the
music. The tall trees, surrounding and protecting the meadow, shook their
leaves in rhythm. Tiny animals, such as mice, crickets, frogs, butterflies
and grasshoppers ran or leapt through the meadow, brushing against the
stones and leaves. A small stream trickled through the grasses; it bubbled
and popped in melody and harmony with the flowers. Pink, yellow and white
rosebuds, covered with morning dew, dripped their sparkling drops to the
rich brown earth below. There was nowhere on earth more beautiful than
Clover, a small fairy dressed in a
pale green dress with even paler green wings, sat under a fat mushroom.
Her long, golden hair was braided down her back and tied at the end with a
blade of grass. Sitting next to her on the ground was a black cricket. It
was chirping and rubbing its wings together and Clover sang a song. "That
was beautiful," she laughed, reaching over and softly patting the
cricketís head. Its tiny antenna wrapped around Cloverís wrist, holding
onto it affectionately for a few moments. "Cricket, what should we do
today? Would you like to go with me down to the stream?" Cricket nodded
her head up and down and hopped along behind Clover.
The stream was flowing quickly.
Clover bent down and scooped a handful of water into her hands. She lifted
it to her mouth and drank. Just then she heard a frantic call. CHIRP!
She looked around for Cricket.
"Cricket! Where are you?" she called.
CHIRP! CHIRP! CHIRP! She saw the
little black cricket in the middle of the stream. She was holding onto a
small twig, struggling to stay above the water.
"Iíll help you," Clover said, but
Cricket could hold no longer and lost her grip on the twig. She was swept
along with the water. Clover lifted into the air by flapping her wings
gently and flew just above the stream as it meandered through the meadow.
She saw Cricket floundering in the water. Trying to reach her, Clover
lowered her arms and called, "Grab my hands, Cricket."
Cricket couldnít do anything. The
water was moving too quickly. Clover spotted a tree up ahead. It was
growing next to the stream and its branches hung over, leaves dangling
down. "If I can knock some of those leaves into the water, Cricket could
grab hold of one." Clover flew quickly up the stream and came to the tree
as Cricket swirled through the water. She grabbed a few leaves and pulled
them off the branch. She flew back toward Cricket and dropped the leaves
above her. "Catch them and climb onto one," Clover urged.
She watched as the leaves hit the
water. Relieved, she saw Cricket catch one and slowly she climbed onto it.
Exhausted, she lay down on her back. The leaf bobbed up and down on top of
the stream but soon came to a small pool off to the side. Clover flew down
and stood on the bank. She grabbed the tip of the leaf and pulled it to
the side. "Hop onto the grass," she called to Cricket.
The cricket jumped off the leaf and
landed next to the fairy. Clover smiled. She was so happy that Cricket was
safe. Cricket was tired and lay down on the grass. Clover sat next to her
and patted her head. She began to sing a song,
"Little Cricket, shiny and black,
Iím so glad that you are back.
Close your eyes and dream a dream.
The sun will send down a warming beam.
Little Cricket will soon be fine.
Iím so glad youíre a friend of mine."
Soon Cricket was asleep. Clover lay
down on the grass and curled her gossamer wings around her body. She put
her arm around Cricket and soon the meadow sang them both to sleep.