Many workmen
Built a huge ball of masonry
Upon a mountain-top.
Then they went to the valley below,
And turned to behold their work.
"It is grand," they said;
They loved the thing.

Of a sudden, it moved:
It came upon them swiftly;
It crushed them all to blood.
But some had opportunity to squeal.

A co-worker many moons ago shared this poem with me. It was the poem that got me saying, "if this is a poem then I can read poetry." And here we are.