Dancing Dust
	Poems by Mollie Caird (1922-2000)
	Evolution
Home Alphabetic index of poems Thematic index of poems Biography Gallery Contact and links	Biologists say Darwin did not get it right, Or only approximately so. Mechanism is out, and the fitness of survivors, The stately, crinolined, slow Progress of a calm Victorian steam age Wherein species rise and pass, Clicking like shiny well-oiled automata Behind museum glass. It is more, say the cladists, like a suite or a symphony, A developing work of art: The dinosaurs a grandly expansive cello line, The blastoids a brief horn part. Was Australopithecus a minuet and trio Or a rich unfolding theme; And Homo Sapiens ―cadence, coda, fourth movement, Or might he seem A misunderstood late work still emerging From the composer’s mind? The composer . . . . . . The conductor . . . . . . The orchestra . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Better lock the stage door before the holy trinity Comes sneaking up from behind. Undated The Dancing Dust and other poems, 1983