Pouting in shame, Wind and Storm accept that they can’t wash it away,
so Wind sleeps exhausted from a day of fruitless blowing.
At one point Chance caught hold, hopeful to carry it along and put it right,
but Sidewalk couldn’t escape the curse, and this time it came to rest
in one of the many crevices Man gave Sidewalk when he formed it.
Sidewalk was ashamed, having drew such an unfortunate straw;
he and Ground had suffered endless maladies worse than the others.
Tree does his best to share the load, catching what he can when Wind
finds Chance willing, and in his fingers and arms he grabs the share he can,
but Tree can’t reach Sidewalk’s deep canyons filled with papers and plastics
Storm can’t push, Wind can’t carry, and Chance can’t catch.
Man could, but Man was the one who planted Tree too far away,
made Sidewalk with crevices too deep and too infinite.
Man made the world flat just to spite Storm and Wind and their abilities.
Man threw it down in the first place, and never looked twice at where it fell.