"What is it with boys and sticks?"
         muttered a young mother. 
"Girls don't bother making such
         nonsense."

Sticks are powerful things, you see.
More than banging clackity-clack 
        along the next-door neighbor's 
        picket fence.
More than keeping balance on a hike 
        up a steep and narrow trail.
And more than propping up 
        for a night a tarp for a tent.

Deep inside every little man
Is a primal call to prepare,
        to learn
To make horses go fast
        and faster,
To catch fish, after all a boy's
        gotta eat,
And to fend off foes, to the death
        if need be. 

What is it with boys and sticks?
         You ask. 
It's way more than whack,
        or be whacked.
In the end, it's what makes
        boys men. 
When the cries for help doth end,
        it's what makes this world
        so proud of them.