The Fox and the Grapes
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One sunny afternoon, a little fox was walking down a dusty path. His tummy gave a long, grumbly rumble.
He looked up and saw a tall wooden trellis. Fat bunches of purple grapes hung from the very top.
"I can reach them!" Fox said. He crouched low, then leaped as high as he could.
His paws swiped the empty air. The grapes swayed gently, just out of reach.
"Just one more jump!" Fox said again. He took a big breath and leaped even higher.
His claws brushed nothing but sky. Fox landed with a soft thud on the ground.
"Just one more jump!" he whispered. He ran fast and leaped with all his might.
Still the grapes hung high above him. Fox sat down, breathing hard, and stared up at the vine.
After a long, quiet moment, Fox stood up tall. He flicked his bushy tail.
He walked away with his nose in the air. "Those grapes were probably sour anyway," he said.
The sun was low and golden. Fox curled up beneath a shady tree, his eyes growing heavy.
He let out a long, slow sigh. "Sour anyway," Fox murmured, closing his eyes. Soon he was fast asleep beneath the shady tree.