Along it came

stumpity stump

& built a scene

in an uperty clump

& downwardy bump

went round a hump

& plained a plain.

That everyone knew

from all points of view

& there it lay hid

the world. Indeed,

it wrote down a map,

a line of time, mayhap.

Chopped up in bits & chunks

at the edge & on that ledge,

rolled it about in hunks

like a roll of dough,

baked it & sliced it apart,

so everyone knew

it was bread they grew.