A fable
Ant was a determined guy. When he went somewhere, he went to get things done. Where other ants went, he followed. If something needed picking up, he picked it up. Life was simple for ant. Except …
Sometimes Ant didn’t do anything for a reason. Sometimes, Ant looked at the sky. Specifically, Ant would look at the sky if Butterfly flew by.
“Butterfly is so beautiful, free to fly where she wants, I wish I could be like her,” sighed Ant. Ant didn’t know it, but he was in danger of falling in love.
One day when Butterfly was flying, and Ant was staring at her wishing with all his heart he could be like her, he did something that surprised him. He began to sing.
He couldn’t help it, really. It burst out from within him, somewhere he never imagined existed within him. But there it was. Ant trilled a high pitched beautiful song that ascended and descended with its own beauty, its own melody.  That’s when Butterfly noticed Ant.
Butterfly heard beautiful singing. Who could that be? It wasn’t any bird, wasn’t any hairless bear, wasn’t a cat or dog, what was it? Butterfly circled about, listening intently. Then she saw below her in the grass, an ant, perched on the tip of a blade of grass, doing something no ant had done before. He was singing. A lovely song, like the wind in the grass on a hot summer day, like the smell of flowers full of dew, a song about stopping to look at beauty instead of working all day without ever wondering what it is like to see beauty.
That’s when Butterfly realized Ant’s song was about her. Butterfly flew closer. She circled about Ant as his song continued. When it ended, Butterfly settled on a flower. “That was a beautiful song, Ant,” she said.
“Thank you,” said Ant. Then Ant tried to say, “You’re so beautiful” but all he could do was stammer, so it sounded like he said, “Goober bo boogiflub” which puzzled Butterfly, and made Ant feel like crawling away. But Ant tried again. This time he said, “It must be wonderful to fly.”
“It’s what I’m made to do. It must be wonderful to be strong.”
Ant blushed (or whatever ants do when they’re embarrassed). “Being strong isn’t much, but you can fly. And you’re beautiful.” This time Ant managed to say it, then felt very foolish. He went under the blade of grass and hid beneath it.
“Oh Ant, don’t hide. I thought your song was very beautiful.”
“My what was beautiful?” Ant came out from under the blade of grass.
“Your song. The music you made.”
“Is that what it was?”
“Do you mean you never did that before?”
“No,” said Ant.
Then Butterfly made an impetuous decision. “Would you like to fly?” she said.
“Would I like to have wings, like you, is that what you mean?”
“No, what I mean is you climb on my back and I take you flying,” said Butterfly.
“I’m not sure I like the sounds of that,” replied Ant. “You look fragile.” Ant blushed again. “And beautiful,” he quickly added. “And I don’t want to fall.”
Butterfly smiled, ”I’m a lot stronger than I look. You can’t be that heavy. If you get on my back and hold on tight, I’m sure you’ll be safe. We won’t go far. You said you’d like to fly,” said Butterfly who fluttered her wings, just to remind Ant who he was talking to.
That did it, Ant climbed onto Butterfly’s back. He took one last look at the ground, wondered if this was a good idea and they were aloft! Butterfly circled over the grass where she met Ant. Ant looked over her side and could see all his brother ants far below him. “They look so small!” he said to Butterfly. Butterfly laughed and started to climb higher.
Butterfly soared up on a warm breeze. Ant held on tighter and tighter. He said, “I’m not sure I like this!”
“Trust the wind,” replied Butterfly, “the wind will keep you safe.”
“Trust the wind! What does that mean? Are you on personal speaking terms with the wind? Does the wind know your name?” Ant had more to say, but at that moment the wind lifted them up quickly, then pushed them down even faster. “Woaah,” cried Ant as they rose. “Yeeow, sweet ant queen!” Ant shouted as they fell.
Just as the ground rushed at them another warm breeze lifted Butterfly and Ant up. Butterfly continued to soar above the place she found Ant. “Look Ant, there’s your anthill, can you see it?”
Ant tried to peer over Butterfly to see his anthill but what he saw instead was a sparrow diving at them with its beak open, “Woh NOOOOO!” he screamed.
Butterfly turned her head, said, “What did you say?” She saw the sparrow diving at them and laughed.
Ant screamed, “How can you laugh at a time like this?” when a sudden gust of wind pushed both Butterfly and Ant out of the way of the sparrow.
“You have to trust the wind, Ant,” said the Butterfly.
“Right now I don’t trust the air, the wind. I don’t trust a breeze. Put me back down. Please, right now. I don’t want to fly. Please.” Ant was a little hysterical.
Butterfly settled down on the grass blade where she picked up Ant. “Oh, Ant, the air, the wind are kind to butterflies. There’s no reason to fear flying. You can fly with me any time you like. Maybe you’ll change your mind.”
Ant answered the Butterfly. “I appreciate your gift, but all you did was convince me I’m made for the ground. But I’ll always sing for you Butterfly to thank you, for the chance you gave me to fly, and how beautiful you are.”
So it is, Ant never flew again, but if you listen closely whenever a butterfly is near, you might hear the song of an ant rising on the wind. It’s a most delicate song that sounds like morning dew in the cup of a flower, or the first ray of dawn’s light.

Moral: Beauty conceals terrible fears.