“Watch your snap” he warned the frog.
The large green frog pretended not to notice the fool.
Humph!! He thought ,what would a fool know about catching a blowfly?
In fact the fool knew many things, he was a keen observer of nature, but because he was a fool, he didn’t know how smart he was. He wasn’t smart with reading, writing, or arithmetic. He wasn’t smart about politics or religion. He saw the world differently from most people, because his heart was pure.
His world was filled with Mother Nature busily going about her business. He noticed all the small things that most don’t have time to observe. The way a raindrop will fall on a leaf and shimmer like a jewel, until it becomes too heavy, and drops off onto the ground below with a soft sigh.
He watched the brilliant orange and black lizards scurrying around foraging for food, unaware of the large black and white bird sitting quietly in the branch above, waiting for the tiny lizards to break cover.
The fool observed that life was a big food chain and there was always someone bigger, better, and brighter than you, whether you were man or beast. It didn’t matter how much you struggled to reach the top, in the end the life cycle reduced all to dust. The fool was quite a philosopher; but because he was a fool, no one was interested in his opinions.
The fool was happy with the small things in life, the laughter of a child, the smell of the rain on a hot road, and the exhilarating feel of water drops tickling his face. He loves to hear the beautiful chorus of birds in the mornings proclaiming a new day. He marvels at the way the sunrise majestically coats the world in its orange rays, and paints the clouds with purple and gold. He laughs at the little red- browed finch eating seed off the table. The bird looks comical as his legs keep doing the splits, while he tries to balance on the slippery rain-soaked surface. On a clear day he loves to find faces in the fluffy white clouds that float gently overhead.
The stench of the city, the hustle bustle of life reminds him of ants scurrying around. These things don’t interest the fool, he isn’t greedy.
People pity his vacant smile, his childish face, his ragged clothes but his life is a rich tapestry of colour, movement, and sound. So who then is the fool?