Magic Mist

 

The Wordle

 

SUNDAY WHIRL

http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com 

asks us to use all the wordle words

MAGIC MIST

When I watch geology 'stuff',

It all seems rather crude and rough.

Volcanoes spurting violent flames

And crashing planets with Latin names.

I like to pretend this earth of ours,

With all its rivulets and flowers,

Developed out of a gentle mist

With the help of a genial alchemist.

I like to think of a tender touch

With sprinkled juices and other such

Harbingers of joy and calm,

And nothing bringing pain or harm.

The alchemist's craft would sweep away

All things unpleasant; they would not stay. 

With his acumen he'd gauge our needs,

Planting only flowers, never weeds.

He'd massage the world with scented oil;

There'd be no such things as pain and toil.

We would be supple, and know no pain;

There'd be no such thing as acid rain.

But, sadly, I'm told by geologists,

There were no such things as magic mists;

We evolved from flame and slime,

Bang and crash for aeons of time.

Brute force, loud noises, heat and cold,

Nothing pleasant, so I'm told.

But I still prefer my alchemist

To the no-holds-barred geologist!

*

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COMPARISONS ARE ODIOUS!

Call that a crest, Old Codger!

That white thing on your head!

If I had that

Silly looking  hat

I'd really rather be dead!

Now this is a crest, Old Codger,

This glorious yellow thing,

That points and furls

And crisps and curls

And makes me look like a king!

With a natural glory, Old Codger,

You cannot ever compete!

I'm feeling bolder

On your shoulder!

Quick! Gimme something to eat!

*

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PS

Our friend, Angus, had his 70th birthday today and we were privileged to be invited to his party. We met-up with his five grandchildren, none of whom we'd seen for some time. Julie and Susan organised the feast. Here are some photos of the occasion.