Willa Counts the Sunbeams — Every afternoon, Willa watched the sun from the cool grass and counted its warm rays in a whisper. Read the full story →
Every afternoon, Willa watched the sun from the cool grass and counted its warm rays in a whisper. She wanted to count ten without asking the ants to help, but the open picnic hill felt too wide and bright. One day, a breeze smelled like clover and lifted the blanket’s corner with a flap-flap-flap. Willa rolled after it, just a little, until she was right in the middle of the blue squares.
Because of that, the clouds slid apart and the sun poured gold over her rind. Because of THAT, the shiny black seeds looked like tiny stepping-stones, and Willa tapped each one as she counted. “One more,” she whispered. At ten, she did not roll back right away. She stayed, warm and quiet, while the blanket hummed under her. If you find her seeds, you can count the sunbeams with Willa too.