Fox and Grapes
In the heat of noon, a fox wandered, thirst biting deep.
He spotted a luscious cluster of grapes swaying in the breeze.
“They’re just right,” he said, licking his lips.
He leapt—but fell short.
Again, with more effort—but still, nothing.
Frustrated, he sat, tail twitching, eyes narrowing.
“Who needs sour grapes anyway?” he snapped.
A passing crow chuckled. “Sour now, were they sweet before?”
The fox scowled and padded off, pretending he never cared.
✨Moral: Disappointment often wears the mask of disdain.