AR

Saving Time
by Arthur Mortensen

Despite good summer plans, I can't delay
Arrivals from the future. Yet, one grieves
To find September waits a week away,
That it's too soon to notice browning leaves.
The waterbug that dares to cross the street,
Its long antennae searching for a path,
Knows well that August drives it from retreat
To face the coming season's stormy wrath.

But my best clock's not fixed; its marks are dreams
I call upon to focus blurs in space,
Whose hands are speculations on what seems
Against whose movements I can try to race
To see if I can win an extra hour
And show that fancied choice can have real power.

On Statistics Lepodopterous
by Arthur Mortensen

When interviewed about the hurricane
The butterfly reclined upon a petal;
Described the causal finding as insane,
An insult to its fluttering and its mettle.
No matter what insistent human voice
Demanded that the creature take the blame,
It said "you statisticians are such joys
To put a harmless butterfly to shame.

"Perhaps the caterpillar that I was
Began the heavy breezes that destroyed
Some hovel where you liked to sit and buzz.
Unless you want to leave me much annoyed,
You ought to try another numbers run
And let the innocent enjoy the sun."