Today is National Grammar Day,
and so I am joining my pedant
on his march, the fourth. He is
a fine pedant with six sturdy legs
and quivering antennae.
We were introduced by my
bi-ped aunt, whose not…who’s not
from New England, else she’d rhyme
with rye bread font. My pedestrian
pedant to the brim is full
of minutiae, spending his tiny hours
as headmaster of a petty school—
there are such things, honest to gosh!
—sorting who from whom with
no fewer than—or is that less?—
43…a pause…trophies for every time
his student’s don’t ill place apostrophes.
I am mostly full of glee
that Grammar Day’s but once
a year, else we all would live
in fear of overtaxing pedantry.
© Elaine Stirling, 2015