The squishiest mattress is a cloud,
So soft it shouldn’t be allowed.  
To stiffen the vapor
They take our their scraper
To shave off of sleet’s brittle shroud.

A hungry alphabet will flock
One word to several things.  
Taut meanings have diverged
From verbal hankerings.

The Wit is nimble, and can skip
The longest distances with ease.  
It flits on an extended trip,
One day, and back from overseas.  
The Wisdom hasn’t cleared the dock, 
A wide, and long, and sluggish ship,
Her cargo a tremendous stock,
And filled as if by faucet drip.  
But such a huge displacement packs,
What takes a flimsy, skimming skiff
More than a hundred there’s and back’s,
A bounty to save Tenerife.