The Misadventures of the Brave Pebble

Upon the Earth a pebble lands
Bright and blinding the pebble stands
Armed with magic to the very teeth
To decend into the stone layers beneath

Under the stone, valleys of moss grows
Down below where the water flows
The moss expands and roots gleefully roam
Cracking and crunching the pebble's home

And deep below where the water stops
Where it thins into drips and drops
Lies the heart of the mass of moss
Verdant and gray in its wet gloss

The air is filled with the cries of metal
Produced by the scraping of the pebble
With its world famous moss scraper
But the roots of the moss barely dwindle

Soon the pebble returns, blazing and blue
Spewing azure flames as it goes
Scorching the plants as it blazes on
Swiftly the moss retaliates and regrows

Upon the hungry springtails it returns
Quickly they crawl into each crevices
Gruesomely grazing the green roots
Finally defeating the great mosses

And so the pebble cleansed its home
With a pack of springtails as its own
The pebble now the brave gardener
In its home, lived happily ever after