“Not I,” said the ___, ___, ___, ___, ___, ___.
So the little Red Hen did, not equivocally wishy-washy or vacantly wishing is she.
She did, does the work. By and for the quest. Little Red rousts effort and energy.
She endeavors always, with objectives; she does her best.
Now the little Red Hen has peeps.
Other hens are petulant and petty. Some squawk and peckishly peck at her hem.
The little Red Hen gives them brief notice, a glance merely, because they are peers who can’t help it if they laid an egg.
The Little Red Hen did the work – and thrives in the glow of accomplishment, shaking a tail feather salute as she strides on.
His will was done: the daily bread.
Let’s toast, not roast. He commands that we share a leg up – as long as we ever can…