Yaps-a-Lot and the Wisdom of Silence

Miss Yaps-a-Lot loves to shout her opinions louder than anyone in the forest. But when true wisdom is needed, the quiet voices — and the careful listeners — shine the brightest. A lively fable about noise, patience, and why the wisest words are often the softest ones.

By Ross Boulton (c) 2025

In the Forest of Whimble, where reason was prized,

Loud Miss Yaps-a-Lot sought to be idolized.

“The forest is lost! It needs me, I swear!

I’ve been chosen—no one can compare!”

She strode through the trees with a staff in her grip,

Waving her pinecone in each pompous trip.

“I’m here to enlighten with wisdom untold!

My voice is the truth, now behold what I hold!”

She raised the pinecone high with a flourish so grand,

Ignoring the groans from the critters in the land.

“The owl has deceived you, I’m here to restore!

Listen to me, and your minds will soar!”

But from the branches, young Finchlet took flight,

His feathers ruffled, yet his voice calm and light.

“You claim to know answers, but can you explain?

Does wisdom depend on loud noise and vain?”

Miss Yaps-a-Lot scowled, her words sharp and fast,

“You think you can challenge me? You’ll be outclassed!”

She swung her pinecone with arrogance wide,

“You’ll all see, my wisdom cannot be denied!”

Finchlet paused mid-flight, a thought in his head:

“Do they hear the quiet ones, or just the loud instead?”

For a moment, doubt stirred, but he took a breath,

And steadied himself, knowing wisdom’s depth.

His wings steady, Finchlet spoke with a calm grace:

“Truth doesn’t shout, it doesn’t need to race.

For truth has a way of staying serene,

Even when drowned out by what’s loud and obscene.”

Miss Yaps-a-Lot scoffed, but her words lacked the weight,

“Just wait, just wait, you’ll soon see my fate!”

She waved her pinecone with frantic pride,

But the forest stayed silent and turned aside.

The beetle yawned, the squirrels turned away,

Even the mushrooms had nothing to say.

She twirled again, shouting, “I am the key!”

But the forest, unbothered, just let her be.

Her pinecone waved wildly, but no one took heed,

The animals around her gave no more creed.

Her voice grew frantic, demanding attention,

But the forest, unfazed, offered no mention.

She reached out once more, desperate and thin,

But the forest had heard it all, again and again.

The pinecone slipped from her hand with a thud,

And the trees whispered softly, “Enough of this flood.”

The wind, with a whisper, softly spoke true:

“Wisdom finds its way in the quietest view.”

Finchlet stood still, his wings spread wide,

And the forest, in silence, stood by his side.

The trees, with their roots deep and wisdom untold,

Had always known that the quiet and bold

Hold strength in their silence, their wisdom they share,

Not in loud proclamations, but in calm, steady care.

Moral:

“The louder the tale, the less it may mean—

So think for yourself, not just what’s seen.”

Did You Know?

Sometimes, the quietest people have the most wisdom to share. Just like Finchlet in the story, listening carefully can help you learn important lessons that loud words might hide.