Boastful aspen

The summer was over. The sultry days and the roar of thunderstorms have gone. The sun's rays, breaking through the thickness of the cold air, were no longer able to warm the earth. They only groped helplessly on the grass, giving the flowers a false hope to continue the careless life. A mirror of the icy water reflected the frown sky. But when the autumn entered into its rights, it’s been still allowing the sky to become azure again for a while. The golden time has come. And then the trees began to prepare for the most important event of the year: for the autumn ball. Wherever you look – there are preparations everywhere. Here you see the birches whisper, discussing the upcoming celebration. They wonder what kind of dresses will the autumn put on them this year.
An elderly birch is more suited to the dark yellow color of the leaves, while the young ones wear lemon-light dresses. A maple tree was busy with its troubles nearby. As a rule, it was beautiful in his purple uniform, teasing his mates, who got a golden outfit. And the rowan tree! Oh, what a beautiful tree! There are bright leaves on the branches, but what the orange bunches of berries worth! Truly royal jewelry! A venerable aspen lady was watching down at the rowan tree from the top shaking with her crimson leaves. Around the aspen, its daughters, the young skinny trees, were having fun. One of them, the most mischievous, looking at a neighboring oak tree, said to her sisters:
– Look! What hilarious outfit it has! Is it possible to go to the ball in such a sheepskin coat?
The mighty oak looked at the neighbors and frowned. Its brown leaves were inferior in beauty to the leaves of other trees.
Aspen, seeing the discontent of the oak, began to laugh loudly, now openly already, pointing at it:
– Here's a beech tree! Both appearance and character did not come out! The hilarious will just see him at the ball! When the wind starts a magical fall of leaves, its leaves will spoil the bright sigh.  And why did autumn invite this oak tree to the ball? That's a stupid ugly tree! I'm another matter! That's what a ruby outfit I have!
The oak listened to these speeches with bitterness.
– But I am powerful and I can protect my sons from the winds, – he said.
But the aspen did not listen to him and kept laughing.
Some time has passed, only memories have remained from the autumn ball. Autumn has changed its caress to the cruel winds and the tenacious cold of the nights. A particularly strong wind rose in one of them. A nervous tremor beat the trees, half- rotted dying leaves rushed on the ground. The young oak trees huddled close to their mighty father so that the wind would not break them. Until morning, the rain was lashing from the heavy sky. When it dawned, the trees saw that they had lost many relatives. The broken trunks marked on the ground and the branches were lying in the dry grass. The venerable aspen looked down and gasped: all its daughters had suffered from the wind. One of them had a broken lower branch; another one had a broken crown. And its most boastful daughter was lying on the ground, uprooted, and the trees were crying above it.
The mighty oak tree did not suffer at all from the rampant elements. And its sons remained unharmed, hiding behind its thick trunk. But the oak was sorry for the boastful aspen, even though it was laughing at the oak. He sighed bitterly again. Since then, the oak leaves and bark, and acorns are bitter, as a best reminder of what is really important. Bitterness has become akin to compassion for stupid thoughts and aspirations doomed to become dust.