He stared at the water. It gleamed with uncommon brilliance, but there was still nothing to eat. He had wandered far, his feet sore. There was nothing here, nothing to see or smell or digest. It was a barren wastland, slowly starving everything it caught. He wished he had never come, that he had stayed at home. Seeking the shade of a tree, he collapsed into it's creeping shadow.
He did not know how long he laid there, only that soon enough a bird flew down to join him. It ruffled it's sparse feathers and pecked at dusk. Not even the bird had enough to exist on here. The onlooker sighed, his spirits further depressed. But the bird started, and the watcher suddenly lifted his head. Anouther bird had dropped from nowhere, and the two took off in a spinning dance over the landscape.
The exhausted onlooker watched them with amazment. Even in such hard times they dance at each other's company? Such energy displayed at so little! Rising to his feet, he started forward with new spirit. If such small creatures could dance at sparcity, then what dance could there be in times of plenty?
