Here's the challenge - compose a poem each day for one year, that reflects my agrarian life. On our hobby farm on the edge of the Monaro my husband Matthew and I raise children (I have eight, though only five remain at home), sheep, goats, chooks, piglets, a milking cow and her calf, fruit and vegies. To support this enterprise I teach in the remotest school in Victoria - if anywhere in Victoria is truly remote.
Saturday, 21 November 2015
The Blame Game
He told me me the gossip going round town.
She had whinged to him...
"We weren't even given a warning.
So and so had got a ticket as well.
It just wasn't fair."
To Him, her argument seemed compelling.
It engendered some sympathy.
Perhaps they should have received a warning rather than a fine.
She had left satisfied at his reaction.
But in the game of saving face,
She neglected to mention,
Her disregard for safety,
And the obvious signage.
Reminders in the newsletter.
Or the way a complainant had been mocked,
And felt compelled, before some one was hurt,
To act.
The blame game,
I think is a primitive reflex.
An action arising from the reptilian brain stem.
'When attacked fight back.'
There goes the few million years of evolution,
That developed our frontal lobes.
Labels:
human frailty,
Human nature
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