Tavi flies beside the blue lighthouse as a red kite rises freely in the open sky. Pale blue wind trails stretch between them above the cliff and sea.

A PICTURE BOOK

Tavi and the Pocket-Sized Storm

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Tavi and the Pocket-Sized Storm

On a grassy cliff beside a tall blue lighthouse, Ms. Lark watches tiny gray-cloud Tavi water young bean plants with a small shower. Tavi’s yellow scarf streams behind him above the blue sea.

Tavi lived in a tall blue lighthouse on a windy cliff. He was not a person or an animal. Tavi was a tiny storm, no bigger than a teapot, with a round gray cloud for a head, bright eyes, and a windy tail that sent his yellow scarf streaming behind him.

Each morning, Tavi helped Ms. Lark, the lighthouse keeper. He blew dust off the steps and made the flag flap. When the bean plants were dry, he tipped a little rain shower over them.

But when Tavi felt excited, his small cloud made thunder.

A red kite is tangled around the blue weather vane atop the lighthouse. Ms. Lark waves from the doorway while Tavi bounces eagerly below, his scarf blowing in the wind.

One afternoon, a bright red kite drifted down from the sky. It caught on the weather vane at the top of the lighthouse. Its string wrapped round and round the shiny arrow.

“Oh dear,” said Ms. Lark. “That kite cannot fly home.”

Tavi bounced in the air. “I can blow it free!”

“Perhaps,” said Ms. Lark. “But a big gust could tear it.”

Tavi’s cloud cheeks grew dark. He wanted to help, but he did not want to tear the red kite.

High on the lighthouse balcony, Ms. Lark and Tavi look toward the red kite caught on the weather vane above them. Seabirds fly over the distant blue water.

Ms. Lark climbed the stairs inside the lighthouse to the little door beneath the roof. Tavi floated after her, making only a quiet breeze.

Outside, the weather vane creaked above them. The red kite tugged at its tight string.

Ms. Lark watches from the lighthouse railing while Tavi clings near the weather vane and the red kite. Wide yellow wind streams across the sky behind the kite.

Tavi gave one tiny puff. The kite trembled, but its string stayed tight.

Then he made a soft rain mist. The drops made the string slippery, but it still clung to the vane.

Tavi stopped. He listened. Wind from the sea was pushing the kite against the arrow.

“I need to blow from the other side,” he said.

Tavi floated around the weather vane. He took a deep, cloudy breath and sent a smooth, steady wind toward the open sky.

The red kite lifted. One loop loosened, then two. Whirr! The weather vane turned, and the last loop slid free.

Up flew the kite, dancing over the cliff.

On the lighthouse balcony, Ms. Lark smiles as Tavi makes one small blue boom puff with coral sound marks. The red kite flies high above them.

A happy rumble began inside Tavi’s little cloud. He pressed both hands over his mouth.

Ms. Lark smiled. “A small cheer is just right.”

So Tavi let out one gentle, happy boom.

Far above, the red kite dipped its tail, as if it had heard him.