🧺 The Summer Night Picnic

On the longest day of summer, the sun didn't want to go to bed. It hung low in the sky, painting everything gold and pink. "Let's have a picnic," said Grandma Willow. "A summer night picnic!"

Poppy and her little brother Sprout helped pack the basket: sandwiches, berries, a flask of cold milk and a big soft blanket. Then the family walked to the meadow at the top of the hill.

They spread out the blanket in the long grass. The air was warm and smelled of flowers. Crickets sang. The birds sang their last evening songs before tucking themselves into their nests.

As the sky turned purple, something magical happened. Tiny lights began to blink in the grass. On, off. On, off. "Fireflies!" whispered Sprout.

The fireflies rose up like floating sparks. Poppy and Sprout chased them gently, never catching, just following. One landed on Sprout's nose and blinked. He went cross-eyed trying to see it, and everyone laughed.

Then the first star appeared. "Make a wish," said Grandma. Poppy closed her eyes and wished that every summer could have a night like this one.

They lay on their backs and watched more and more stars come out. A warm breeze rippled the grass, like the meadow was breathing. Grandma pointed out shapes in the stars: a fish, a teapot and a cat with a curly tail.

By the time they walked home, Sprout was asleep on Grandma's back, and Poppy was yawning. But her heart was full of fireflies and stars, and she knew she would remember this summer night forever.