At the end of the day, Mama Moose took her calf down to the pond.
Step, step, step went the long legs. Step, step, step went the short ones.
The pond was quiet. It was as smooth as a mirror, and it held the pink sky.
"Shhh," said Mama Moose. "We must be very quiet."
The calf tiptoed. Tippy, tippy, tippy.
A frog sat on a lily pad. "Ribbit," he said, very softly, which means goodnight.
A loon floated by, and the loon sang one long, low note, and then she tucked her head away.
A beaver slid into the water, and not one ripple followed.
The calf took a little drink. Slurp, slurp. Cool and clear.
Then they walked back up the bank to their bed of soft leaves, under a spruce tree.
Mama Moose lay down. The calf lay down against her warm brown side.
"Goodnight, Mama," said the calf.
"Goodnight, my darling," said Mama Moose.
The pond was quiet. The stars were out. The whole forest breathed in, and out, and slept.