The Little Boat and the Lantern

Down where the reeds grew tall and green, a little wooden boat sat waiting at the edge of the pond. Its paint was blue as a robin's egg, and a small lantern hung from its bow, not yet lit.

A frog named Pim hopped in and settled on the middle seat.

"I think I'll see where the water goes," Pim said softly.

And the boat slipped away from the reeds. And the water was smooth, and the water was cool.

The first thing Pim found was a lily pad, round and flat, with a snail resting in the very center.

"Hello," said the snail, slow as honey. "Are you following the light?"

"What light?" asked Pim.

The snail pointed one soft horn toward the far side of the pond. And there, just barely, something glimmered gold through the dusk.

"Thank you," said Pim, and the little boat drifted on. And the water was smooth, and the water was dark and kind.

The second thing Pim found was a family of ducks, tucked together near a fallen branch, their heads curled under their wings.

"You're out late, little frog," murmured the mother duck, one eye barely open.

"I'm following the golden light," said Pim.

"Ah," she said, warm and sleepy. "It waits for the ones who look for it. Go gently."

And Pim went gently. The lantern on the bow swayed. The reeds whispered as the boat passed by, and the water was smooth, and the water held the boat like a hand.

The third thing Pim found was the glimmer itself, growing nearer now. It was not one light but many — dozens of small round berries glowing on a bush that leaned over the water, each one shining like a tiny amber moon.

Pim reached up. The nearest berry was warm in his hand, warm as a sunbeam kept overnight. And as he touched it, the little lantern on the bow of the boat began to glow too, soft and gold, all on its own.

"Oh," said Pim, very quietly.

The whole pond seemed to hush. And the water was smooth, and the water was glowing now, gold and gentle all around.

The little boat turned itself slowly, the way a leaf turns on still water, and began to carry Pim home. Past the amber bush. Past the sleeping ducks, who did not stir. Past the snail on his lily pad, whose eyes had closed.

The lantern lit the way, and the way was soft, and the way led back to the tall green reeds.

Pim yawned a small frog yawn. The seat beneath him was warm. The lantern glowed, and its glow was the color of honey, and the color of evening, and the color of coming home.

The little boat nudged gently into the reeds where it had begun. Pim did not climb out. He curled against the warm wood with the lantern glowing above him, and the water rocked him, slow and low.

The frog was quiet. The boat was quiet. The pond held them both in its wide soft hands.

And the little light burned warm on the water, all through the gentle night.