Lacewing
Clinging on for dear life
On my windscreen
For a twenty mile trip
You did not lose your grip
I'm amazed by your stamina
A bug of true grit
And if survival of the fittest
Was measured in size
Versus wind speed
You would indeed
Be the king
Except for the fact
That your kind
Are back at the river
And for your bold travel
You will now die
Far from your natural habitat