One sunny summer afternoon, in a meadow dotted with wildflowers, a group of ants scurried back and forth across the grass. Their tiny legs carried crumbs of seeds, bits of grain, and even flakes of dried fruit to their underground nest. They worked tirelessly, their backs glistening under the golden sun. At the edge of the meadow, a cheerful grasshopper sat strumming his fiddle, his music floating lazily through the warm air. 
“Hello there, ants!” called the grasshopper, pausing his tune. “Why rush around all day? Come enjoy the sunshine! Let’s dance and sing while the weather’s fine!”
The oldest ant paused, wiping a bead of sweat from her antenna. “Winter will come, friend,” she replied. “We must gather food now, or we’ll go hungry when the cold arrives.”
The grasshopper chuckled, stretching his long legs. “Winter? That’s ages away! Look at the blue sky! The flowers! There’s plenty of time to work later.” He resumed his fiddling, humming a carefree melody.
The ants exchanged glances but didn’t stop. Day after day, they hauled food to their nest while the grasshopper leaped from blade to blade, composing songs and napping in the shade. He laughed at their seriousness, convinced they were missing the joy of summer.
—
As weeks passed, the air grew cooler. The leaves turned golden, and the meadow’s flowers bowed their heads. Still, the ants worked, storing every last crumb. One evening, the grasshopper noticed the ants hauling a dried berry twice their size into the nest. “You’re still at it?” he teased. “Come, watch the sunset with me! The sky’s on fire with colors!”
The oldest ant shook her head. “The first frost is near. You’ll regret not preparing.”
But the grasshopper only shrugged. “I’ll worry about that tomorrow!”
—
Soon, winter arrived. A blanket of snow covered the meadow, and icy winds howled through the bare trees. The ants stayed warm in their nest, surrounded by stacks of food. They told stories, shared meals, and even hummed the grasshopper’s summer tunes to pass the time.
One frigid night, a faint knock echoed at their door. The ants peered out to find the grasshopper shivering in the snow, his fiddle clutched in trembling legs. “P-please,” he stammered. “I’m cold and hungry. Can you spare a bite?”
The ants huddled together, whispering. Finally, the oldest ant spoke. “We warned you to prepare. Why should we share what we worked so hard to gather?”
The grasshopper hung his head. “You were right. I thought summer would never end. I was foolish… but I’ve learned my lesson.” His voice trembled. “I’ll do anything to help—sweep your tunnels, sing to your little ones. Just don’t let me freeze.”
The ants murmured again. Then, to the grasshopper’s surprise, the oldest ant smiled. “Come in,” she said. “But tomorrow, you’ll work beside us. Winter is long, and we’ll need your strength.”
—
All season, the grasshopper kept his promise. He helped carry food, told jokes to lift the ants’ spirits, and played gentle lullabies for the youngest ants at bedtime. In return, the ants shared their meals and taught him how to plan ahead.
When spring returned, the grasshopper didn’t lounge in the sun. Instead, he gathered seeds by morning and sang only in the evenings. The ants cheered him on, and together, they thrived.
—
The Moral
The ants knew hard work today brings peace tomorrow. The grasshopper learned that joy and responsibility can dance together—but only if we listen to wisdom before the snow falls.
And so, whenever the meadow’s creatures hear a fiddle tune drifting through the summer breeze, they smile and say, “Ah, that’s the grasshopper—working hard, but never forgetting the music.”
The end. ✨
(Word count: 514)
