Harmonious Poem

I liked your Green Poem, Pliny, I said. Would you like to see mine? It's called Harmonious Poem. Without waiting for him to reply, I began:

Harmonious Poem

The day after the election
the sun came out
people went to the beach forgetting
what they had brought about

They walked their dogs
they ate icecreams
built sandcastles and didn't see
the tide coming in.

A triangle of spangles
sparkled on the sea
representing the harmonious country
this might be.

Not bad, said Pliny, although your rhyming leaves something to be desired.

Well, I wrote it in a hurry, I said. As I suspect you wrote yours.

What makes you think that? asked Pliny.

You paid no attention to metre, I said. Even an amateur can tell.

It was straight from the heart, said Pliny, sentimentally. I see you liked my baby whale.

You stole it from Bob Brown, I said.

But he didn't transform it into art, said Pliny.

True, he didn't. What did you think of my own use of symbolism?

The triangle of spangles? said Pliny. It didn't work for me.

The Irrelevance of Patterns

Pliny the Elder raised an eyebrow.

What's this about the irrelevance of patterns? he asked.

Oh you noticed! I said.

Of course I noticed, he replied. I noticed you didn't explain it very well.

I can't explain it very well, I said. It's either nonsense or something very important. Do you want me to try again?

You may as well, he said.

Alright then. We humans are programmed to look for patterns, do you agree?

No.

Well, that's that then, I said, crossly.

No go on, for the sake of argument, said Pliny.

And yet the pattern has no meaning in itself. It's just the irrelevant trace of a process, I continued.

I assume you are thinking about ripple patterns in the sand, said Pliny.

Yes. The patterns are formed by the, um, well, whatever sand patterns are formed by.

The sea, said Pliny kindly, and the wind, and the tides, and occasionally eels.

Eels! Pliny, now I've lost my thread.

The patterns are formed by natural processes, prompted Pliny.

Yes. And when we see the patterns, we wonder how they were made.

In that case they are not irrelevant, said Pliny, gravely.

I'm just saying, I said, that the important things are the sea and the tides and the winds and the eels, and it wouldn't matter at all whether their actions made a pattern or not. Everything would still be exactly the same.

Except for the pattern, said Pliny. But I thought you liked patterns. Why are you trying to negate them?

I'm not. I'm just trying to see them for what they really are.

I don't think you have, said Pliny.