A purple pan wren flew right down
To the ground at lakes and meadows.
A blue stone jewel bedecked her breast,
Surely amazing her fine feathered fellows.
Why not soar to the canopy above?
Languidly mused a jack tom cat:
Certainly in the leaves of those lofty trees
Is a better place for preening and all of that.
The purple pan wren winged away
Seeking stories flippent and new;
And that jack tom cat thinking ‘well, that’s that’
Knew he’d witnessed beauty simple and true.