I fluttered over the Enchanted Forest this morning and saw something so sweet it made my petals glow—Leafy the rabbit helping a tiny beetle flip back on its feet.
No reward, no reason, just kindness in motion, as natural to her as breathing.
Later, when a storm rolled through, that same beetle scurried beneath Leafy’s burrow and warned her before the flood reached her door. Kindness, I thought, always circles back, the way a song returns to its chorus.
After the rain, I sprinkled sparkles over her patch of clover, and Leafy smiled up at me. “Thanks, Pixie,” she said, “but the beetle saved me first.” She shared her carrots with him and tucked a dry leaf like a blanket over his shell.
Her words lingered like music in the leaves. Kindness doesn’t count favors—it simply gives and grows. Leafy never keeps score, and because of that, her corner of the forest seems to shine brighter than most, even on cloudy days.
When the wind hums through the branches, it carries her kindness like pollen—spreading it everywhere. I think that’s why flowers bloom quicker near her burrow. Love may be my gift, but kindness—oh, that’s Leafy’s quiet, everyday magic.
