The rabbit grinned at the beaver and said,
"My teeth are almost as big as yours,
But on the track is where I shine,
My feet are fast and my spirit soars."
Beaver smiled and glanced at his tree,
Then turned to the frivolous hopper.
"Success is more than awards, young bunny,
But I can see that your ego's a whopper."
The rabbit bristled and gnashed his teeth,
To show the woodsman his intense displeasure.
Said beaver, "Getting mad won't serve your goals,
Nor will a self-indulgent life of leisure."
Now the bunny seethed with anger,
Blasted beaver, imagine his gall.
How could that coward blast the fastest,
cutest bunny of them all?
Beaver's teeth went back to work,
And nary another word did he speak.
But smile he did, at the foolish rabbit,
Knowing he'd be back in a week.
A few days later, as beaver lay sleeping,
In his hogan of wood and leaves,
Came a knocking from above. He said,
"Get the door now, will you, Jeeves?"
There stood rabbit, cold and wet,
Snowflakes hanging off his ears.
Just a week had really passed,
But older he looked by several years.
"Fastest feet, beaver said, "saved
You not from the snow did they?"
Bunny shivered and sniffled a little,
"No," he whispered, "as you say."
"Come inside and share my meal,
The gracious beaver said with a wave,
Then let's talk about honor and work,
And what it really means to be brave."
