ALPHABETS
A shadow his father
makes with joined hands
And thumbs and fingers
nibbles on the wall
Like a rabbit`s head. He
understands
He wil understan more
when he goes to school.
There he draws somke
with chalk the whole firts week,
Then draws the forked
stick that they call a Y.
This is writing. A swan`s
neck and swan`s back
Man the 2 he can see now
as well as say.
Two rafters and a
cross-tie on the slate
Are the letter some call
ah, some call ay.
Ther are charts, there
are headlines, there is a right
Way to hold the pen and
a wrong way.
Firts it is “copying out”,
and then “English”
Marked correct with a
little leaning hoe.
Smells of inkwells rise
in the classroom hush.
A goobe in the window
tilts like a coloured O.
