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.)
