The Dignity of a Kiwi
To buzz like a bee Was no desire to me. And to flit like a fly Was just not for I.
I was not so foul To want to be an owl, And I had not the range To be that of a crane.
For I was the kiwi And I cannot soar. I stay put on the ground And wander the floor.
And I have no wish To do that of a fish, Or burrow a hole With the star-nosed mole.
No, I am quite content, In my place on Earth. And for my limitations, I lack no self-worth buzzy poem