If I would write a poem about an insect called a gnat, your first reaction, I can bet, would be, "Now, what is that?" I wouldn't hold you much to blame for asking what I mean 'cause gnats are never talked about and very seldom seen. They're not a bit like junebugs which are big enough so that, when hitting windows of your car, will make an awful splat. The gnat, in fact, is miniscule and there the problem lies... of how to keep a herd of them from getting in your eyes or speeding on your bicycle you turn and make a grin revealing gnats along your teeth between your lip and chin... So, gratitude to tinyness is what this poem's about. If junebugs were to hit your teeth, they'd probably knock'em out.