The Bullock Cart
Once, into the class room, he came
Walked straight to the window frame !
Feet firmly planted, he continued, with avid interest,
Keenly watching a bullock cart amid the arid moor.
All the students knowing the Master,
Stared listlessly at the blank black board, chalk and duster.
Courage to disturb dear old Spa, none could muster.
Spa, the pet name of the teacher, is an acronym for
Socrates, Plato and Aristotle.
But, curiosity caught the class sooner than faster.
They crowded each remaining window pane and frame,
Only to see the sheer beauty of the vastness of the wasteland And a forlorn bullock cart furrowing a lonely strand.
At last, the Professor turned aside, by choice.
And surveyed his class…the noteworthy and the novice;
‘Did you see what I saw?’ howled his husky voice.
‘Yes sir, ‘replied all; ‘A rickety- rackety bullock cart.’
‘What then is very vital in that rollicking bullock cart/’ ‘
It’s the wheels,’ cried an eager front bencher.
The old man’s ‘No,’ was an affronting clincher.
“Axle,” blurted another;
‘May be the bullocks’
‘The axle locks?”
“The load”, ’‘The road,’ ‘The goad,’
‘The jolly jaunt unlike the dart,’‘The bloke driving the creeky cart !’
The wise old head’s final ‘No,’ was pivotal .‘
“It is the very concept of movement that is vital,’”
Said Professor Spa, without any emotion
‘The lively bullock cart’s motion,‘
A mere manifestation of life’s basic notion.’