The Crown That Glowed Too Bright
- Ross Boulton
- May 4
- 3 min read
Updated: May 5
The back story mirrors moments from real life—like when political figures wrap themselves in religious robes or national symbols to claim moral authority. The image in my mind was Donald Trump styled as the Pope: puffed up in papal white, holding photo ops with scripture in one hand and power in the other, declaring himself chosen not by the people, but by some vague, self-serving destiny.
Theme: Vanity, Power, and Pretend Authority
In the heart of the grove where the old elders grow,
A murmuring rose with a whispery glow.
For someone had claimed, to the forest’s delight,
A shimmering crown that was far too bright.
It sparkled and buzzed like a magical thing,
And perched on the head of a bird on a swing—
A broad-feathered eagle with pomp in his stride,
Who shouted, “I’m holy!” and puffed with pride.
He wrapped himself up in old scrolls and white thread,
And balanced a pinecone hat on his head.
He called to the critters, “Come kiss my claw!
I now bless the forest—I am the law!”
“I pardon the weasels and grant skunks a prayer!
I knight every fox with magnificent flair!
No rules can contain me, no nest is too high—
For I’ve been anointed by clouds in the sky!”
Maple the Goose flapped down with a sigh.
She tilted her head with a questioning eye:
“Who gave you the crown? Did the forest all vote?
Or did you just tape it to sit on your coat?”
Eagleton blinked. “Why, the crown picked me!
It floated like fate from a powerful tree!
It glows when I flap! It hums when I grin!
Surely that means I was chosen to win!”
But whispers began from the bushes and logs—
From skeptical beetles and sensible frogs.
“He’s blessing himself while he poses and tweets.
No council, no vote—just a fanfare of cheats!”
Owliver blinked from his branch up above.
“A crown is not earned by applause or self-love.
The holiest hats are not loud or self-made—
They’re granted through service, not glitter parade.”
The squirrels all nodded. The chipmunks agreed.
The raccoons took notes as they pondered the need.
And Eagleton’s crown, without praise to survive,
Just flickered and fizzled—then flew off a hive.
He huffed down the trail with his feathers all flat,
Still wearing his pinecone and paper-tied hat.
He muttered, “They’re jealous. They don’t understand.
Real greatness just happens—it isn’t planned.”
Moral:
Crowns that are claimed with a shout and a show—
Will never take root where real leaders grow.
✍️ Why I Wrote This
I wrote this fable as a playful but pointed response to something I’ve seen in the world—what happens when someone crowns themselves with borrowed holiness and demands loyalty without earning trust.
The story unfolds in a forest clearing, where animals live by shared values. But into this peaceful grove swoops an eagle named Eagleton, draped in scrolls, crowned with a pinecone, and declaring himself the forest’s holy law. With every squawk, he blesses himself, rewrites the rules, and expects applause.
The back story mirrors moments from real life—like when political figures wrap themselves in religious robes or national symbols to claim moral authority. The image in my mind was Donald Trump styled as the Pope: puffed up in papal white, holding photo ops with scripture in one hand and power in the other, declaring himself chosen not by the people, but by some vague, self-serving destiny.
That visual inspired the satire: an eagle claiming divine right, surrounded not by reverence, but by squirrels taking notes and frogs quietly rolling their eyes.
But the story isn’t just parody—it’s a lesson. Characters like Maple the Goose and Owliver the Wise remind young readers (and all of us) that real leadership is chosen, not claimed. That scrolls and slogans don’t make someone sacred. And that no crown shines long without the light of service beneath it.
I wrote this to help children understand the difference between humility and hubris, between authority that listens and power that shouts. Because in every forest—and every democracy—glitter fades, but truth takes root.
—Ross Boulton
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