My Bicycle: a poem

ANONYMOUS
Contributing Writer
When I was learning to ride my bike,
I had a lot of questions.
I asked the beaver how he knew his dam
       wouldn’t float away.
He said, “I don’t, but I make sure to chop down the best wood.”
I asked the butterfly how she knew her wings
       were strong enough to allow her to fly.
She said, “I don’t, but I just keep beating them as hard as I can.”
I asked the bird how she knew her nest
       wouldn’t fall out of the tree.
She said, “I don’t, but I pick the strongest branches for the foundation.”
I asked the bee how he knew where to find honey.
He said, “I don’t, but I just keep looking and looking.”
I asked myself how I was supposed to know how to ride my bike
       without falling down.
I thought to myself, “I don’t, but I’ll get up
       every time I do.”