The Flea

There was a stick in a stream steeped in mud, immobile and old.  There was an ordinary flea sitting on it.

The stream went under the flea on the stick slowly, and a light breeze made the leaves ruffle on a tree nearby.

There was a fish in the stream wagging its tail.  The fish was by the stick in the mud and it wagged its tail slightly to counter-act the flow of the stream.  The fine mud swirled at its tail.

There was a hovering bird in the sky.  It moved its wings against the gentle breeze.  It hovered above the stick and the flea and the fish.

This took a moment, and in a moment the bird had flown away, the fish had swum beyond the stick, and the flea was gone as if snatched away by an invisible hand.

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