This is, clearly, version 2 of this poem. I was rewriting it to put in my binder of hard copies (you never know what can happen) . . . and I found I had a certain speech from As You Like It in my head, which led to the following. I'm not sure which version works better, or if this version works at all . . . so please let me know.

Wings (version 2)

The first one said
a plane is a nonliving thing
and his companion ever the pragmatist
replied how do you know?
(in layman's terms:
a formal request of proof by explanation)

He explained that it had windmills right
outside the window there look
(don quixote would be proud)
and was corrected in due course of
course, these are propellers
(the retort courteous, to be exact)

and there they stopped (and left it proofless)
two small philosophers
to the wider world of bythebook
because, after all, anything with wings is different
and who knows what soul man has forged into metal?