Mathesaurus

In the pale, mid-afternoon sunshine, I sit on the weathered hill overlooking the math and sciences quadrant of my college campus.
While I finish the remnants of my late lunch, I watch as the grass on my hillside table ripples in the breeze, ebbing back and forth in a green tide bespeckled by yellow dandelion surf.
The sun places soft kisses against my forehead.

And I can form an energy balance equation that describes the heat transfer between the sun, the atmosphere, and my face.
And I can create an equation of motion to describe the periodic vibrations of the grass stalks as a result of the non-linear forcing function of the breeze.
Hell, if I was feeling really ambitious, I could even write a computer simulation of the entire math and sciences campus micro-system that would track the fluid motion of the atmosphere.

But why would I want to do that?

Maybe, because it is my poem, I am bias, but I think that the poetic imagery better describes the grasses and the sun and the breeze than any mathematical equations could.
Even though the equations and the imagery convey the same information, something just seems to be lost in the translation from numbers to words.

Someone should invent a mathesaurus.