The tree beetles go away.
    On a whirling stream they sway,
    They fly off to their dwelling
    Through the forest, self-propelling.

    Our stag beetle, with glee,
    Made herself a cup of tea
    Took a blank sheet for this task,
    Put ink in the acorn flask,
    And wrote:
    Dear friend Mink,
             If you catch a tree beetle,
             Don't think!
             Dip it in ink!
                    Saying Hi,
                     Your friend,
                     Lucanus Cervus.






    Could you figure, just for fun,
    What's the distance to the sun?

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