There’s something in the park today, something green.
It’s bigger than a bread box (google it) and it is not vegetable or mineral.
I don’t know where it came from, the children have been talking about it for weeks,
But it was only today that I saw it, in the morning sun, grazing on the grass.
I forget what it is called (there’s some controversy about its name) but it is big, huge, bigger than a house,
And longer too, and taller, and heavier.
I don’t know where it came from, the children have been talking to it for weeks,
And they say it’s not going anywhere.
They like to ride on it, but as large as it is and as small as the park is , it doesn’t go far.
Better, they like to slide down it’s neck and, after walking across its back, continue to slide down its tail.
It came from an egg, I think, but it’s not going anywhere.
It shits really big piles of poop, which I and all the neighbors scoop up and put in our composite bins (nearly filling them up).
It’s better than elephant poop (Zoo Doo) for gardens and planters and such.
It makes no sound, its small brain is totally consumed with walking and eating and pooping.
It can’t sing, but the children sing to it.
They sing happy songs, fun songs, songs about home and hearth, and it smiles.
Yes, I said it smiles, and then the children smile too,
I even catch myself grinning occasionally, you know.
I asked my grandchildren what it is and they said “It is a Marjorie.”
“A Marjorie?” I ask.
Yes they say, she told us so.
Who am I to disagree? It keeps them out of the house and from underfoot.
It stops the constant barrage of, “Grandpa, watch this.”
But it doesn’t stop them from going to school.
Actually she encourages school, and reading, and math, and exercise,
Because she has no children of her own, she helps raise ours.
I love Marjorie.
I don’t know where she came from, an egg I think, but I’m glad she’s here and
I thank the children for introducing me to her.
= Small town boy