The Egg That Hummed — Under the soft clouds, Clover stepped through the spring grass with a basket bump-bump-bumping at her chest. Read the full story →
Under the soft clouds, Clover stepped through the spring grass with a basket bump-bump-bumping at her chest. She had saved one smooth egg with no stripes, no dots, no shine, because it made a tiny sound when she held it close: hmmm, like bees far away.
Past tulips and daisies, the hum grew warm against her chin. “Do you hear that?” Clover whispered. The flowers nodded in the breeze, and the tree shook loose a sweet, petal-smelling sigh.
Then the plain egg answered in flower colors. A pink ring, a blue wiggle, a yellow star—each mark bloomed as a blossom nearby opened wide. Clover laughed so softly the clouds seemed to listen. Her joy felt too big for one basket, so she tipped it toward the meadow and shared the humming spring; next time you spot the little stars on her side, you may hear that first hmmm again.
