With a tail of shimmer and flashing eyes, the peacock fled into the sun’s reach. “I’m here,” he called with a voice so sweet the skyline shuddered with delight.
“But it wasn’t always this way,” said the robin watching between cherry blossoms.
“Once, that bird was a man with muscles rippling into the night like the crack and clap of a tempest. He was so loud, though, the storm God took umbrage, and turned him into a peacock. The lesson, my friends, is to never steal someone’s thunder.”
Copyright © 2019 Bridget Webber. All rights reserved