Flashing in the sun,
Like he’s number one,
The closer he flew,
The bigger he grew.
‘Twas himself he saw.
He gave it his all.
Attacked with his might,
Worked up for a fight.
‘Twas himself he hit.
His head he did split.
Dropped like a stone,
Out cold he lay prone.
Revealing God grand,
He lay in my hand.
With feathers that shown,
Out classing my own.
With a shake he flew,
His bump he did rue.
He beat his rival.
And made us marvel.
Deane Wassink
February, 2007