Poems
by Mary Cresswell

 

Language Of Science

(collected in a physics lab, which shall remain nameless)

 

By the doodad, next to the thingy

seek and ye shall find.

 

Maybe there’s one, maybe there’s many –

be sure you have made up your mind.

 

Behind the gizmo, there by the widget

doohickeys mingle and twine.

 

Grab the last whatsit, go for the gadget

Be grateful you got it in time.

 

 

 

 

 

Boxing Day (Southern Hemisphere)

 

I wandered windblown and alone

rejoicing in the great outdoors

when all at once I saw a swarm

a host of golden Labradors

crowding the beach, athwart the dunes,

wallowing in the opportune.

 

Their loving owners I saw not:

perhaps they didn’t give a hoot

chatting in the parking lot

drinking coffee from the boot

rarely stirring their lazy bodies

to run around and pick up jobbies

 

to store in little plastic bags.

But there’s virtue gained in doing that –

when my sense of self-worth flags

I recall the whole world’s “full of it”,

and when I’m awash in worldly chores

I think upon the Labradors.

 

 

 

 

 

Ecological Observation

 

How doth the busy manager

improve each shining hour

running up and running down

the corridors of power!

 

Her paws are busy busy

shuffling papers on her desk

her tail will twitch in sudden rage

if she comes out second best.

 

Her little whiskers quiver

her little nose shines brown

she picks up every crumb she finds

and fears to put it down.

 

She’s with us bloody always

no way will she stop

until a wise and loving government

allows a fresh 1080* drop.

 

(* 1080 is a big-league rodenticide, but not yet universal.)

 

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