Page 6 - The Gluckman Occasional Number Two

He didn’t. Instead a wonderful thing
Ensued from fatigue and his crippled wing:
Inertia sent him around and around
Just like a ball on the end of a string.

Without a bit of exertion he sailed
Within the huge cloud of moths and nailed
A lot of them simply by being there
For quite a while; behind him Flapper trailed.

“You’ve done it, Zoomer!” he shouted at last,
When both were past where the bugs had amassed;
“I don’t know how but you’ve eaten dozens:
I’m so relieved that you’ve ended your fast!”

All Zoomer could do was weakly assent
And follow Flapper home with one wing bent;
His pride wouldn’t let him admit the truth:
Success was only a lucky descent.

Thus Zoomer could find food, yet never tire:
Through the flitting buffet his long slow gyre
Provided him nourishment night after night:
No longer was he in straits quite as dire.

And that would have been the very last word
About tiny Zoomer anyone heard—
But one warm evening when the bats flew out
They found a dreadful thing had occurred.