A Moral Tale

There were two children who were told to go play. One child had many toys, the other child had none. The child with many toys would not share any toys with the other, not one! Though the child with many toys had far too many toys to play with all at once, even the unused toys were denied the child with no toys.

Eventually the adults, realizing the child with many toys was not sharing, and could not be taught nor scolded into sharing, gave the child with no toys a few new toys to play with.

Now the child with many toys saw that the child with none was given new toys, and wanted to have some new toys, too. The child with many toys screamed about how unfair it was that only the other child got new toys and not both of them.

The child with many toys then wanted the child who had before had no toys to share the new toys, but still did not want to share the toys that had been there before.  The child with the few toys refused to share because of only having those few.

The child with many toys cried again about how unfair it was that the adults had urged and scolded to share from the many toys, but that the child with a few toys was not only not expected to share, but that the child with many toys was again scolded for wanting to play with the few new toys but would not share from the many toys.

The child with many toys blamed the child with few toys as the reason for being scolded. The child with many toys was angry at the child with few toys for getting away with not sharing. The child with many toys hit the child with few toys for not sharing.  The child with many toys had the toys taken away was put to bed, all the time wailing about how unfair all of this was, and still never learning the lesson.

How many times in life are we the child with many toys.

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Sounds

I close my eyes

Barely perceptible
The wind brushes past my ear
Hushed as a whispered secret

The crowing of a rooster
Rustle of feathers shaking out the dust
And a chorus of peeping chicks

Exhaled breath through a soft muzzle
And the rhythmic grinding
Of fresh grass between teeth

This inadequate language
Unable to replicate
The pitched bird-songs from every tree

Or capture the buzz
Of the hummingbird’s wings
Hovering, climbing, diving

But a distant barking dog
And the click of a shutter
Pass easily into words and imagination

From across the hills
Echo the chattering hum
Of a diesel engine tractor

And the earthy rumble of hooves