⏱ ~4 min reading
In a slow, clear stream flowing between willows and a meadow, there lived a little fish. Her name was Zasinayka.
During the day, Zasinaika did not sleep. She went about her fishing business. She swam among the seaweed, blew silver bubbles, basked in the streaks of sunlight that fell through the water. Sometimes she rose almost to the surface and looked up - from there she could see the sky, the clouds, the willow leaves hanging over the water. Zasinaika loved her day.
And when the sun began to lean towards the sunset, when the meadow daisies folded their white petals, when the last dragonfly sat on a lotus and froze — Zasinaika knew: it was time to go home. To the bottom.
Her home was at the bottom of the river. In the quietest, most secluded place. There, among the soft seaweed, swaying like green silk ribbons, was her water bed. A small depression in the soft, warm mud. Over the bed hung a weeping blade of grass - like a canopy. And below the sand was fine, fine, like flour.
The wrasse slowly descended there. Its tail swam slowly. Its fins swayed. The water became cooler and darker the deeper it sank. And the sounds became muffled. From above, only a gentle «rumble-rumble-rumble» could be heard — the river was singing its nightly lullaby.
The sleepyhead lay down on the barrel in her waterbed. She closed her eyes. And fell asleep.
And with it, the entire river fell asleep.
The crayfish quietly burrowed into their burrows under the pebbles. One large crayfish, with two claws, carefully, like a caring grandfather, closed the entrance so that no current would disturb their sleep. It was dark and cozy in the burrow. The crayfish curled its tail and closed its tiny black eyes.
The frogs found lotus leaves for themselves—wide, flat, like green plates on the water. They lay on their bellies, folded their legs under them—and became like little green balls. Sometimes a frog would still manage to croak softly—«kumi-kumi»—and then fall silent. The lotus swayed slightly beneath it. The moon shone on its back.
The little fish didn't sleep alone—it would be lonely. They gathered in schools, huddled together, and so, together, slowly died among the reed stalks. It was called "sleeping in a school." Very warm. Very safe.
Even the water spiders, which had been running across the film of water all day, folded their thin legs and rested on some leaf.
Night had fallen on the river. Silence. Only the moon floated quietly over the water, like a silver boat.
Because night is a time for all living things. Not just for you.
Imagine, little one, for a moment. Imagine how right now, at this very moment, in your room - you. In a warm bed, under a blanket. And somewhere in the river, at the bottom - Zasinayka, on her soft water bed. In the hollow of a tree - a squirrel, curled up. In the hole - fox cubs, hugging each other warm barrels. In the den - a bear, breathing slowly in the spring. In the barn - a cow, folding its hooves. In the stable - a horse, bowing its head. All of them.
All living creatures on this earth are sleeping now. Some are at the bottom, some are in a hollow, some are in a hole, some are in bed. From the smallest fish to the biggest bear. From the ant to the elephant. Everyone.
And you too are part of this great, shared, warm sleep. You are not alone. Never. The whole world falls asleep with you. A great, gentle world.
He rocks softly, softly in his cradle. In a cosmic cradle that no one has ever seen, but which exists. And in this cradle — everyone. Everyone sleeps. Everyone breathes. Everyone grows in sleep.
The sleepyhead is already asleep on the bottom. Her fins barely move. She is dreaming of something good - probably how she swims among the sunspots during the day.
Good night, little citizen of Earth. Close your eyes. The whole world is holding you in its arms. And it won't let go - until morning.
✨ The whole world falls asleep with you - you are never alone at night ✨