Writer - Lance Mason
That survival of the fittest kept one from being dead.
“Are you tall? Are you huge? Are you noble? Are you swift?”
We are asked by Charles’s work, in regards genetic drift.
Now, we know that reproduction is guided by the skill
By which the hens discriminate among the cockrells’ trill,
But imagine that the mating dance was ruled by sillier things,
Like polka-dotted eyeballs or skin of knotted string.
If offspring bearing cycles were under such control
The call of the wild kudu could sound like rock-and-roll.
We might have purple zebras and whales that looked like cats
And centipeded hippos with feet like bowler hats.
Imagine candy-striping on bamboo, in a stand,
Or an African blister beetle with lips like Yves Montand!
If evolution didn't matter, and life were fancy-dress,
The trees and fish and birds and bees would be a delightful mess!
If the hue and shade of plumage and pattern of one's scales
Were biologically unimportant, ears could look like tails,
A panda might be turquoise, a grizzly, bright chartreuse –
A squirrel in brilliant lilac with a Marilyn Monroe caboose.
Throwing darts might be the way that orangutans competed
For the favors of the she-orang in Sumatran jungles, fetid.
A volume of one's published poems might rank one for the pairings
Of porpoise pods, or baboon troops, or schools of
Canines might be arctic blue with red noses shaped like rosebuds;
Elephants might choose brass spittoons as ornamental nose-plugs.
The combos of this mad play-act are definitely quite spooky
Because they force upon us, Folks, imaginings quite kooky,
When, in fact, Ma Nature’s show in the Okavango Delta,
In ocean depths, Himalayan peaks, or
Bedazzles all who witness it—that’s the fabric Teddy wove us,
With every jesting word and rhyme where his legacy reposes.
*Theodore “Dr. Seuss” Geisel, 1904-1991