In a kingdom long ago
there was a man who lived alone. In spring he
never sowed his seeds for fear there might be
drought, and in fall he would not travel lest
his ship be blown into the deep. But though he
locked his doors inside and out, it did not
bring him peace.
One day a bird, small and
slight as a pebble, flew to his window. He
marveled at her green wings and at the beauty of
her song.
"I have heard that wind
can uproot a tree from the ground," said
the man. "Are you not afraid of wind?"
The bird cocked her head
brightly, "Of course," she said.
"And I have heard that
fire can sweep a forest in a day," the man said.
"Are you not afraid of fire?"
"Yes," she said. Her
wings, thin as pages in a book, glinted in the
yellow sunlight.
"But if you are afraid,"
asked the man, "why do you fly? Why do you build
your nest?"
The bird cracked a grain
of millet in her beak. "There are things I would
not miss," she said. "Every day there is
morning, ripe as a peach." She trilled a score
of grace-notes effortlessly. "And fledglings in
the spring, of course--small things."
"I do not wish to hear of
these," said the man. "What of wind and fire?"
The bird considered
thoughtfully. "My song," she said finally,
"requires them all." The man watched her fly
away, as frail and strong as ashes dancing in
the air.
Author Unknown
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