A Red Brick Road

“Red brick road” squawked the crow as he lay rusty red bricks in columns and rows. “Why hello Mr. Crow! My dear to where are you building this red brick road?” “North” he replied “where the wind is not so” “Well Mr. Crow, why not fly? It would be much faster than laying these tiles one by one. See there’s a breeze that could carry you to Narborough” “No no!” Said the crow “Papa crow built a road and Mama crow built a road so I must build a road too. Good crows build roads and do not trouble themselves with fickle breezes that blow.” “Well Mr. Crow, I think there are many things you could learn from opening your eyes and your wings. You were born with feathers to fly not hands to make roads.” I pondered over my feathers Then opened my wings myself. Shocked I was lifted on a sweet wind Over mountains and seas and countries themselves! I saw all that could be seen and soared around the world. Finally I crested a hill to see a familiar sight: “Red brick road” squawked the crow as he lay each tile “Oh Mr. Crow, I hate to tell you so, but your road is not going North at all! My dear I fear you build East, but do have peace: see a wind now blows up from the south which will carry you up to Narborough.” “Folly! Folly I tell you!” Cried the crow, “Sailing on winds! We sensible crows do not trouble with winds and gales! They bring too much trouble! We sensible crows build ruby red roads and never look up to bother the sky!”