“What do you like for breakfast?”
Said Fox to Chick one day.
But Chick was silent and frightened.
He didn’t know what to say.
“I like eating vegetables.”
Fox continued on.
“I like raw ones upon my plate
And I eat until they’re gone’
“I like all kinds, but my favorite
Are the ones that have a root.
I’ll eat legumes to get protein.
Don’t care much for meat or fruit.”
Still quiet and bewildered,
Chick didn’t say a thing
The nervous fowl just shuttered
Beneath each wing.
And then they heard the taunting:
“Fox and Chick sitting in a tree . . .”
“Are they teasing both of us?” Chick asked.
“Or are they only teasing me?”
“I’m different,” said the fox, “And so
All the other animals make fun.
They think I ought to be a certain way.
And not the way I’ve done’
“I don’t think the same as most fox do
I don’t fit the stereotypical mold
But it’s okay. I’m not like them.
Being true to myself I uphold.”
Chick understood. Fox wasn’t the same
Fox wasn’t going to eat Chick
There is something to be admired about
Making individualism stick.