The Sleepy Lighthouse

On a quiet rocky cliff, an old lighthouse named Wren stood watch over the sea every single night. As the sun dipped below the water, Wren's light blinked on, slow and steady, turning in gentle circles across the dark waves.

Below, fishing boats bobbed their way home, following Wren's soft glow like a lullaby made of light. "Thank you, Wren," the sailors called up, waving before they tied their boats safely to the dock and headed home to bed.

Wren kept turning, watching over the little harbor town as one window after another went dark. She watched the fishermen's children fall asleep, and the old dog by the bakery curl up by the warm oven, and the seagulls tuck their heads under their wings on the rooftops.

As the night grew deeper, even the waves seemed to slow their rolling, lapping softly instead of crashing. Wren's light kept turning, patient and calm, a steady heartbeat over the sleeping town.

When the first hint of morning finally touched the sky, Wren's light blinked off, its work done for the night. The lighthouse stood quiet and still in the pale dawn light, resting at last, while the little town began to wake up all around it.

As the fishermen stretched and yawned in their warm beds, none of them saw Wren finally close her own tired eye for a few quiet hours of rest. She had watched over every last one of them until the sun came up to take over the job, and now it was her turn to sleep, safe in the knowledge that the whole little harbor town was safe too.

By the time the sun climbed fully into the sky, warming the rooftops and waking the gulls, Wren stood dark and quiet on her cliff, patient as always. She would rest all through the bright, busy day, gathering herself for the moment the sun dipped low again and it was time to turn her light back on.

Somewhere in town, a small child pressed her nose to the window, watching Wren's dark silhouette against the pink morning sky, and wondered where lighthouses went to dream. She did not know that Wren, resting quietly through the sunny hours, was dreaming of nothing but calm water and safe boats — the very same wish she blinked out to the sea every single night.

Sleep well, little town. Wren will be watching again tomorrow night.