There is a beautiful little parable in which a high-flying sparrow looks down at her shadow skimming along a parched, withering landscape. This saddens the little bird. “If it were not for the constant sun,” she thought…
The air would cool. Plants could grow again. Animals could thrive. Children could play in the rain.
But the sparrow was so small, she was helpless against the unrelenting sun. Or was she? Suddenly she had a thought. She flew off and excitedly chirped her idea to a wise old woodpecker who nodded in approval. The woodpecker informed a flock of pigeons who scattered to tell others. Soon the skies were abuzz with the sparrow’s idea.
At the appointed hour, when the sun was at its height, the birds came. From east and west, from north and south. Plants and animals looked up in disbelief. The earth had suddenly cooled; the searing sun was blocked by the great cloud of birds soaring overhead.
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