THREE LITTLE BIRDS
In the lush forest of life, three vibrant birds— I call them the "Trio of Truth"—perch on a sturdy branch, their feathers shimmering with the wisdom of camaraderie. They chirp in unison, their voices a mocking melody, aimed at a lone bird, the "Rude Redhead," who’s flapping desperately to join them. For seasons, Rude Redhead had basked in the sunlit canopy, gorging on the juiciest fruits while sneering at the Trio’s invitations to share. “I’m fine alone!” it squawked, feathers puffed with selfish pride, as it relished its solitary feasts.
Now, with the winds of hardship blowing—fruits scarce and storms looming—Rude Redhead suddenly craves the warmth of the flock it once ignored. The Trio, however, aren’t so welcoming. “Oh, look who’s flying in now!” they jeer, their beaks dripping with sarcasm. “When the forest was a bed of roses, you were too good for us, but now that the thorns are out, you want to nest with us? Fly back to your lonely branch, fruit-hoarder!”
This feathered fiasco mirrors those who, in times of plenty, strut through life like self-appointed kings—think of a politician who, during prosperous days, ignores their constituents, basking in power and personal gain. They feast on the fruits of influence, dismissing the community that supported them. But when the storms of scandal or election losses strike, they suddenly flock to the very people they snubbed, begging for votes or loyalty at the nearest rally.
The lesson? Don’t be a Rude Redhead—share the fruits of good times with your flock, because when the winds turn, you will need their wings to lift you up, not their beaks to peck you away.
Disclaimer:
The metaphor expressed herein is strictly meant to chase my own ideas. No any political party is mentioned.
Photo Credit: Edwin Mauluka 's lens 📸
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