by Lise Day
First she finds two straight sticks
not too thin nor too thick
sands and smoothes each one
chooses the yarn freshly spun
‘In through the front door
running round the back
peep through the window
and off jumps Jack’
Class five tasked to teach class one
so teenage boys must forgo
their macho images just so
stitch by stitch bit by bit
my granddaughter learns to knit.
Even now I am old and wear purple
shocking pink varnish on my toes
don penguin patterned socks
and my luminous lime green crocs
wear a battered hat with roses
love to dance to golden oldies
I cannot get an eyebrow raised
Waldorfians are quite unfazed
considered eccentricity is the norm
to be different is to run true to form
the only way I can make my name
is to let my grandchild play a computer game.
In this season of festivity
we present the age-old nativity
my daughter longed to be Mary
or a pretty angel at least.
My son fancied the role of leopard
till he discovered it was shepherd.
My granddaughter on the other hand
desires a role far less grand
she wants to be the donkey mild
who carries Mary and the unborn child.