He grabbed a brush and painted the sky.
He painted it broad, He painted it wide.
From a stroke of white He created the clouds,
Then splashed in birds to fill it with sound.
With precision and class He painted the grass,
Covered in dew to make it last.
Happy with that, He moved on to the trees;
The trunks so tall with their branches of leaves.
He poured on oceans, rivers, and streams,
And took extra effort on the sun, it seems.
That fiery ball that makes the day so bright,
And the pearly moon to light the sky at night.
But then with an unfortunate turn of luck,
He spilled on a sickening poisonous muck.
It manifested across the land,
the error of God-
The creation of man.