Once, in an orchard, two great men, Prose and Poetry, were walking at twilight, and the golden light of the day was shimmering through sieve of leaves. Both were pacing at the same speed. They came across a wounded bird, fluttering on the pavement. Poetry stopped to see it, but Prose elided this and moved on. Poetry, taken aback, called out him and said:
Poetry: Please unfold your identity!
Prose: An intellectual man, very sharp at wit!
Poetry: Add more!
Prose: A social reformer and moralist!
Poetry: So true! But it is only me that weeps for man, bird and beast.
Poetry picked up the bird and brought home for its treatment, and Prose continued his exercise!
Notes (optional)