Dear Robert,
I hope this note finds you well. As I have been late on writing by snail, I thought I send you a poem or two. Or three. Have you heard of Christian Morgenstern, who lived from 1871 till 1914? Here we go:

The Pike
Converted by St. Anthony
a pike and all his family
embraced with moralistic zeal
the vegetarian ideal.

Henceforth the pike would only eat
sea grass, sea roses, and sea wheat.
But wheat, grass, rose did reappear
abominably from his rear.

The pond turned wholly poisonous.
Five hundred fishes perished thus.
But Anthony, called in distress,
said nothing but, "God bless! God bless!"


The Seagulls
The seagulls by their looks suggest
that Emma is their name;
they wear a white and fluffy vest
and are the hunter's game.

I never shoot a seagull dead;
their life I do not take.
I like to feed them gingerbread
and bits of raisin cake.

O human, you will never fly
the way the seagulls do;
but if your name is Emma, why,
be glad they look like you.

THE WEREWOLF
A Werewolf, troubled by his name,
Left wife and brood one night and came
To a hidden graveyard to enlist
The aid of a long-dead philologist.

"Oh sage, wake up, please don't berate me,"
He howled sadly, "Just conjugate me."
The seer arose a bit unsteady
Yawned twice, wheezed once, and then was ready.

"Well, `Werewolf' is your plural past,
While `Waswolf' is singularly cast:
There's `Amwolf' too, the present tense,
And `Iswolf,' `Arewolf' in this same sense."

"I know that--I'm no mental cripple--
The future form and participle
Are what I crave," the beast replied.
The scholar paused--again he tried:

"A `Will-be-wolf?' It's just too long:
`Shall-be-wolf?' `Has-been-wolf?' Utterly wrong!
Such words are wounds beyond all suture--
I'm sorry, but you have no future."

The Werewolf knew better--his sons still slept
At home, and homewards now he crept,
Happy, humble, without apology
For such folly of philology.

Warm greetings, Julia