Vestigiality

ABC WEDNESDAY

letter 'V'.

VESTIGIALITY 

All right! All right! So it's not a word,

But when I apply it to a bird

That has two wings but cannot fly

There is no earthly reason why

I cannot create something descriptive.

After all you can't be prescriptive!

A vestigial organ is one discarded,

Although once very highly regarded.

The wee-winged kiwi eventually found

He could manage well when on the ground.

There was no earthly need to fly,

So his wings just shrivelled by and by.

Likewise our appendix withered away

When we desisted from eating hay.

(I've put this in because of the rhyme;

I can't be perfect all the time!)

In fact no-one is really sure

What the appendix was actually for!

But, since a rabbit's is much bigger

It's to do with diet, or so I figure.

The coccyx used to be a tail

Until the tail began to fail

And Man descended from the trees

And created upright societies.

The human brain will vestigialise

As we become, in time, less wise.

As we gaze at computer screens,

Brain-power will no longer be in our genes.

Man will be dull as any log

And no-one will ever read my blog!

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BLUE BARRIER

Something's going on behind the barrier

But I've no idea what I must confess!

I peered to see construction,

Or a difficult obstruction,

But I could only make a stab and guess.

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Was it put there to delight a passing artist

Who desired a 'colour-wash' to set a scene?

Did it protect the tree,

Which, as far as I could see,

Was wonderfully sturdy and quite green.

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Ah well, I'll just accept it as peculiar,

And move off again just wandering on my way.

But my Blog will benefit

From the colour scheme of it,

I needed something blue for my Blue Day.

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PS

This year will long be remembered as the year of the Big Wet! La Nina has excelled herself; the dams are brimming and everything is growing like mad. It has rained, almost non-stop for weeks and a lot of Xmas celebrations have been affected.

This was out Street Party, normally held out on the green between the houses. Instead, this year, a tarpaulin was erected over the barbecue and we all, young and old, met in Max's family room.

And, yesterday, we had our Probus Club party. Malcolm was roped-in to ferry two of the older members to the venue, where lack of parking is a feature, and we had a wretchedly wet time picking them up. We arrived looking like drowned rats. The lunch was splendid, though, with excellent company, food and good-will, and my little sketch was a success.

I recorded the arrival of one of the revellers!

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