A Bed Beneath the Bench

The dark settled thick around the yellow dandelions, making the shiny ribbon roof dim and still. I paused, feeling the cool night damp seep into my big feet. It was time to sleep. Gently, I lifted the coiled tail of the ribbon and shuffled under the low shadow of the wooden bench. Behind one sturdy timber leg, a dry drift of pale pine needles had gathered into a thick, springy cushion. I knelt down with a slow, heavy thud. With two patient fingers, I curled the shiny ribbon tight against my round tummy, then pulled a soft blanket of brown needles over my lap. I let out a deep, sleepy rumble into the dark.