Five minutes stories for beginning readers.

A story of finding comfort in familiar places, and how we come home.

In a meadow stirring with the warmth of the spring sun, Nigh Ox and Off Ox grazed peacefully. The meadow was free of winter’s grasp. The vibrant green blades of grass were a feast for their eyes after the weary winter’s fare of hay and grain. It was a day so beautiful that joy seemed to bubble up from the very earth itself.

“Listen!” said Nigh Ox, “Don’t you hear our friends coming?”

The Off Ox paused, his mouth full of sweet grass, and lifted his head, listening intently. “I don’t hear any footfalls,” he said, a note of confusion in his deep voice.

“You should listen for wings, not feet,” the Nigh Ox corrected softly, a smile in his voice. “And for voices, too.”

Even as he spoke, a soft “tittle-ittle-ittle-ee” floated overhead as though some bird were laughing for happiness. The melodious call grew louder, “The Swallows!” the Oxen exclaimed in unison, their deep voices rich with excitement. They bellowed the news across the meadow to the Horses, who tossed their heads with delight.

Then, as if the sky was responding to their joy, it darkened briefly with the whirr of many wings. The Swallows had come home! Landing gracefully on the ridge pole of the big barn, they rested, exchanging tales of distant lands with the Doves who paced the roof, cooing softly about the everyday wonders of the farm. The Doves and Swallows were firm friends despite their different ways.

The barn swallows come home! One of our five minutes stories.

One young Swallow chirped, “Isn’t it good to come home, home, home!” Then, noticing his old nest under the eaves, he swooped down with another young Swallow following close. She was lovely, with a buff vest and a deep blue collar. He loved her dearly.

“This was my nest,” she said, settling in. “Would you think I was ever crowded here with five brothers and sisters?”

“I don’t want you to be a fledgling again,” he replied. “Help me make a new home under the eaves โ€“ a lovely little nest of mud and straw. Will you?” “Yes!” she cried. 

As they soared into the sky, an older Swallow looked on, bemused. “Where are those youngsters off to? They’ve flown enough for one day, haven’t they?” But another Swallow, wiser with years, simply smiled.

That afternoon, a Swallow began to tell of his journey south: “Last fall, when the maples turned red and yellow, we felt the urge to fly south. We started out together, strong and ready. We flew over many farms, rivers, and towns until we reached a great lake. With only the feel of the wind to guide us, we crossed on faith. Just after, a very queer thing happenedโ€ฆ”

But then, he trailed off, looking a little flustered as if it wasn’t worth getting into just then. Spreading his wings, he declared, “I wish to see a few old friends before the sun goes down. Good afternoon!” And he darted away.

As the shadows of the barn grew longer and the evening grew quiet, the farm animals settled in. The swallows tucked into their new nest, the horses dozed in their stalls, and the Oxen chewed their cud with contentment. Spring had sprung, and that was the best story of all!

A new nest for the swallows

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