Ode to a Commode

I wrote poetry in high school once.

We were doing Engels and had to read ‘ode to a something’ and so I wrote my Ode to a Commode, which was way better than John Keats’ effort. Hey, I was an immature, scatological teenager easily amused. In some ways . . . .

I searched for which ode it was and it was ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’ – ode ON an urn! Now I remember: That’s what set me off giggling. I imagined him sitting on the ‘urn’ see? No? Well, ask a teenager.

I was thinking about my telescopes and how much joy I’ve had from them; and decided to write an ode to my ‘scope, which reminded me of the above ancient memory.

So: ‘Scopes:

– salt marshes near Walvis Bay, Namibia in 1986 –
  • top two: Mfolosi wilderness walk; above: Tsavo East, Kenya –
– showed the crowd a Piet-My-Vrou cuckoo in Mbona, KZN Midlands –
– see, Jessie? – Super-Jessie peers – resting her Super-vision to amuse Dad –
– the whole old family with two new additions at Mangeni Falls near Isandlwana –
– insets: Robbie peering into my scope twice, fifteen years apart –

With a scope you can delight novices; With binocs it’s often, ‘Where? Which tree? Oh hell, it flucked! It flocked off!’ with a scope you can say ‘Look’ and they say ‘Wow!’ I love that.

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