Wasps

Wasps in brightly
Coloured vest,
Chewing wood,
To make their nests.

Wasps, like rockets,
Zooming high,
Then dropping down
Where peaches lie.

--Anne Ruddick

The Way through the Woods

They shut the road through the woods
Seventy years ago.
Weather and rain have undone it again,
And now you would never know
Tere was once a road through the woods
Before they planted the trees.

It is underneath the coppice and heath,
And the thin anemones.
Only the keeper sees
That, where the ring-dove broods,
And the badgers roll at ease,
There was once a road through the woods.

Yet, if you enter the woods
Of a summer evening late,
When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools
Where the otter whistles his mate,
(They fear not men in the woods,
Because theys ee so few)
You will hear the beat of a horse's feet
And the swish of a skirt in the dew,
Steadily cantering through
The misty solitudes,
As though they perfectly knew
The old lost road through the woods...
But there is no road through the woods.

--Rudyard Kipling

What in the World?

What in the world
goes whiskery friskery
meowling and prowling
napping and lapping
at silky milk?

Psst,
What is it?

What in the world
goes leaping and beeping
onto a lily pad onto a log
onto a tree stump or down to the bog?

Splash, blurp,
Kerchurp!

What in the world
goes gnawing and pawing
scratching and latching
sniffling and squiffing
nibbling for tidbits of left-over cheese?
Please?

What in the world
jumps with a hop and a bump
and a tail that can thump
has pink pointy ears and a twitchy nose
looking for anything crunchy that grows?
A carroty lettucey cabbagey luncheon
To munch on?

What in the world
climbs chattering pattering swinging from trees
like a flying trapeze
with a tail that can curl
like the rope the cowboys twirl?
Wahoo!
Here's a banana for you!

What in the world
goes stalking and balking
running and sunning
thumping and dumping
lugging and hugging
swinging and singing
wriggling and giggling
sliding and hiding
throwing and knowing and
growing and growing
much too big for
last year's clothes?
Who knows?

--Eve Merriam

What is the Sun?

the Sun is an orange dinghy
sailing across a calm sea

it is a gold coin
dropped down a drain in heaven

the Sun is a yellow beach ball
kicked high into the summer sky

it is a red thumb-print
on a sheet of pale blue paper

the Sun is a milk bottle's golden top
floating in a puddle

--Wes Magee

What's In There?

What's in there?
Gold and Monkey.
Where's my share of it?
The mouse ran away with it.
Where's the mouse?
In her house.

Where's the house?
In the wood.
Where's the wood?
The fire burnt it.
Where's the fire?
The water quenched it.

Where's the water?
The brown bull drank it.
Where's the brown bull?
At the back of Birnie's Hill.
Where's Birnie's Hill?
All clad with snow.
Where's the snow?
The sun melted it.
Where's the sun?
High, high up in the air.

--Anon

When I Was Christened

When I was christened
they help me up
and poured some water
out of a cup.

The trouble was
it fell on me,
and I and water
don't agree.

A lot of christeners
stood and listened:
I let them know
that I was christened.

--David McCord

Whisper Whisper

whisper whisper
whisper whisper
goes my sister
down the phone

whisper whisper
go the beech leaves
breathing in the
wind alone

whisper whisper
whisper whisper
slips the river
on the stone

whisper whisper
go my parents when they whisper
on their own

I don't mind the
whisper whisper
whisper whisper
it's a tune

sometimes though
I wish the whisper
whisperings would
shut up soon

--Kit Wright

The Whistler

My little brother is almost six,
He's good at maths and magic tricks,
He's quite a neat writer,
He can hop and jump and pull funny faces,
He can do top buttons and tie his laces,
He's a fearless fighter.

But he wanted to whistle - and though he tried
Till his face went red and he almost cried,
He still couldn't do it,
So he asked me how and I said: 'Make an O
With your mouth and then, very gently, blow
A whistle through it.'

And he did - but now the trouble is
My little brother practises
All day long,
He sucks in his cheeks, he puffs and blows,
Whatever he's doing, his whistling goes
On and on ... and on ...

--June Crebbin