The Raven and The Dove
One warm day in spring, a Raven sat on a branch. The sun was shining and he made sure to enjoy the feel of it on his jet black feathers. The Raven was happy, happier than he had been in a long time, the silence his only needed companion. In his joy, the Raven began to sing, broadcasting his voice through the park below, until it reached the ears of the old Hare, who was busy gathering food for the day. The Hare stopped in its tracks and looked up at the Raven with a look of distaste bunched up inside his eyes.
“What is that wretched noise?” the Hare said, pulling his long ears down, a feeble attempt to block out the noise.
“It’s my song. I am celebrating a beautiful day!” the Raven squawked again.
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