The Little Cloud Who Lost Her Rain

Once upon a time, high up in the sky, there lived a little cloud. White and fluffy, like a little pillow. But oh dear, she had lost her rain.

One morning she woke up and gave herself a shake, but not a single drop fell out.

"Oh!" squeaked the little cloud. "Where has my rain gone?"

Down below, in the garden, the flowers hung their heads. The leaves on the little apple tree had wilted, and the ground was all cracked. The garden was thirsty.

"I’ll find my rain!" said the little cloud. "I’ll be quick as can be!"

So off she floated across the sky, calling:

"Rain, little rain, where can you be? Drip-drop, answer me!"

Then all of a sudden — whoosh! — along came a little breeze.

"Why are you calling, little cloud?"

"I’ve lost my rain. Have you seen it?"

"Haven’t seen it," whistled the breeze. "But I’ll help you. Hold on tight, and we’ll fly off to look!"

And off they flew together. The breeze blew, and the little cloud floated along.

"Rain, little rain, where can you be? Drip-drop, answer me!"

Soon they saw a sunflower standing in a field. Tall and yellow, he stretched his head up toward the sun.

"Sunflower, have you seen my rain?"

"Haven’t seen it," sighed the sunflower. "I’m waiting for it myself. My head is hot and my feet are dry. Oh, I’m so thirsty!"

On they flew. Then they spotted a little pond. On a lily pad sat a frog, green and round-eyed.

"Ribbit! Who are you looking for?"

"My rain," said the little cloud. "Have you seen it?"

The frog scratched her nose with her little foot.

"Ribbit-ribbit! I know where rain comes from! Ask the sun to warm up my pond. The water will rise up to you as soft, light mist."

The sun warmed the pond. Warm mist rose from the water, up and up, all the way to the little cloud. The little cloud gathered it in, and gathered it in… until she wasn’t white anymore. Now she was grey, heavy and round.

"Oh!" she laughed. "Something’s gurgling inside me!"

"That’s your rain!" croaked the frog. "You’ve found it!"

"Thank you, frog! And now, off to the garden!"

The breeze blew — whoosh! — and they raced back. As they passed over the sunflower, the little cloud gave him a gentle sprinkle: drip-drop.

"Oh, that feels good!" said the sunflower, lifting his head. "Thank you!"

Over the garden, the little cloud stopped, and… drip. Drip-drop. Drip-drip-drop! Down came a warm rain. The flowers spread out their leaves. The little apple tree shook out her branches. The ground drank and drank until it had all the water it could want.

By and by, evening came. The little cloud was small and light again. The sun painted her pink, like rosy cheeks after a bath.

"Tired?" whispered the breeze.

"Just a teeny bit," yawned the little cloud.

The breeze began to rock her: to and fro, to and fro. Down below, everything smelled of wet grass. In the pond, the frog sang softly: "Ribbi-i-it… ribbi-i-it…" The sunflower folded up his petals. One by one, little stars came out in the sky.

The little cloud snuggled in among them, closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Goodnight, little cloud. And goodnight to you, too.