Poetry: Ode to Whining
Ode to Whining
The mice do not complain, said he—
They do not moan or whine—
Before extraction of a brain
Or anesthesia time.
But mice are truly quiet things
(Outside Horacian lines):
With microscopes we look on brains
But cannot look on minds.
So while for cell-providing cause
Our friends are well-endowed,
My instincts scamper to embrace
An upright-standing crowd.
For underneath the need to fuss
Some human genes align.
To work with those who interact
I’ll work with those who whine.