The awesome thing about Billy Collins' poetry is that I can enjoy the lesson of gratefulness with my 9 year old.
Here is a poem where the tortoise looses the race to the hare. Or does he?
Just as the hare is zipping across the finish line
the tortoise has stopped once again
by the roadside,
this time to stick out his neck
and nibble a bit of sweet grass,
unlike the previous time
when he was distracted
by a bee humming in the heart of a wildflower.