The Brave Little Squirrel

In Whispering Woods, where sunlight dappled low, Lived a squirrel named Pip, with a hesitant toe. He longed for adventure, a climb to the sky, But heights made him tremble, and brought a small cry.

Wise old Hoot the owl, with eyes shining bright, And sly Foxy Fred, with fur burning light, Would watch little Pip, with a knowing old glance, As he stayed on the ground, missing out on a chance.

"Oh, to climb the Great Oak!" Pip whispered one day, Its branches like ladders, reaching far, far away. But fear held him captive, a prickly, cold chain, He just couldn't imagine enduring the pain.

Then a rumbling sound, made the forest all shake, A wild wind was blowing, for goodness sake! The Great Oak was swaying, a dangerous dance, And Hoot the old Owl, was stuck in a trance!

Fred the sly Fox, just chuckled with glee, "Let the wind take him," he thought, wicked as could be! But Pip felt a courage, a fire ignite, He knew he must help, with all of his might!

He scrambled and scurried, so quick and so bold, A bravery rising, a story untold! Up, up he climbed, past branches so high, Ignoring the wind, reaching for the sky!

He stretched a small paw, pulled Hoot from the breeze, And safely they landed, amongst rustling trees. Fred the sly Fox, just stared in surprise, At Pip, the small squirrel, with brave, shining eyes.

From that day on, Pip knew, deep in his heart, That courage resides, where adventures restart. The tallest of trees, held no fear anymore, For the brave little squirrel, had found strength to soar!