The Milk Bill Poem by Trevor Maynard

"Good morning, Mrs Green, is you daughter home? "
She shakes her head and look in gloom at the cloudy vista
One of Man's Aves thunders silently by: so high, you see
"Looks like rain, Mr Milk, "says Mrs Green, to me; I agree

"Good day, Mrs Green, is your daughter home? "
She shakes her head and looks, with a smile, at the bright sky
I watch the iron bird, leaving a trail, water vapour beautifully entangled
"No rain today, Mr Milk, "says she; I concur

"Good morning, Mrs Green, is your daughter home? "
She shakes her head and looks with joy, at the cloudless sky
The metal swan glides morose, leaving something
something which whistles through the air
"The rain should keep off, " notes Mrs Green; I nod and note
the swan's egg, landing ten miles out

*

"Good day, Mrs Green, is your daughter home? "
She shakes her head and looks disinterested to the sullen floor
The Ave of Man no longer passes, even when Mrs Green looks up
"My daughter lost her parachute, " she relays, melancholy
A shame, and I am perturbed, because I have been asking for her
For a number of days, where her daughter has been

"She was caught in the storm, the bad rain, you see" says she
I do; and I agree, but, and there always is a but, I am not a charity
Charitable, yes. However, I have debts to collect, I should not give credit
Thankfully, Mrs Green sees my predicament, my quandary
There is no need for any awkwardness, contretemps, or quarrel
"How much is the Milk Bill, Mr Milk? " she asks, and pays fully


December 1979
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