Friday, June 22, 2018

Per Pack

When I was a smoker, 50 cents 
Was what I paid per pack.
If I'd a dollar bill, I would
Get half my money back.

Today, while we were getting gas,
I saw there on display
The cigarettes lined up in boxes,
Waiting for their prey.

But I was staggered by the price,
For $13.29
Was the current going rate
And that should be a sign

That smoking isn't worth it -
Just alone due to the cost;
(And that's not even counting
All the lives that have been lost!)

Thursday, June 21, 2018

The Pigeons

The pigeons bob their heads and strut
And pause to do some pecking.
Their throaty conversations
Interfere not with their trekking.

A sudden startle sets them
With a flutter in the air.
Ten seconds later they alight,
Unbothered by the scare.

Their iridescent necks dig deep
Into their feathers, scratching,
Perhaps to loosen bugs which likely
Might have been attaching.

The sparrow and the grackles
Let the pigeons do their thing
And neither seem to notice
When the other group takes wing.

Although they’re nicknamed “rats with wings”
(An epithet quite mean),
The pigeons certainly belong
As part of New York’s scene.

Wednesday, June 20, 2018

That Nice Cape

An older man and I cross paths
Each morning when I walk.
For months there was no contact –
Neither nod nor wave nor talk.

Until last week, when all at once
Our glances did connect.
I smiled and then he nodded;
Recognition, I suspect.

For several days we waved hello.
I thought that would suffice,
‘Til yesterday, when he did say,
“That cape of yours is nice.”

My woolen navy cape I wear
On autumn’s chilly days.
With big gold buttons, it attracts
Its share of glimpse and gaze.

My walking pal was one of those
But filed that fact away
Until the ice was broken
And a lead-in came his way.

We never know just what effect
We have when paths align
And for my new acquaintance
I must thank that cape of mine.

Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Under the Overpass

My morning walk is sandwiched
‘Tween the river and the road
And I’ve seen a homeless guy there
With a tent as his abode.

Several others sleep on benches
And one slumbers on the ground,
Yet since yesterday a couple
On a mattress can be found.

They were curled up under covers
With no pillows and no sheets
Underneath a concrete overpass
Connecting to the streets.

Though at night it must be private,
In the early morning sun
They were there on view for exercisers
Out to walk or run.

Most just gave a glance and passed them
But I couldn’t help but muse
How they wound up on that mattress,
Not a “bedroom” one would choose.

Life is sometimes cruel and heartless,
Filled with status that appalls
And I felt for that poor couple
Who, at least, deserved some walls.

Monday, June 18, 2018

Fat

Americans are way too fat;
That’s what statistics say,
For 65 percent weigh more
Than what they ought to weigh.

With explanations varied
There is always an excuse
Why, despite a stringent diet,
People’s poundage won’t reduce.

I was once a trifle heavy
And I hated buying clothes;
Every bulge upon my body
Seams and zippers would expose.

Yet I see so many out there
From the plump to the obese
Who, for reasons I can’t fathom,
With their weight have made their peace.

Are they capable of changing?
Though the experts tell us so,
Most will keep on growing bigger;
As to why, we’ll never know.

Sunday, June 17, 2018

On Fathers' Day

My husband is a father
And my son’s a dad as well,
A job at which the both of them
Do very much excel.

The one to whom my cards went
Has been gone for many years,
Though love, in all its stubbornness,
Still somehow perseveres.

Of course I think of him today
And though we had to part,
There’ll always be a spot reserved
For him within my heart.

Saturday, June 16, 2018

Every Wedding

Every wedding’s different
From the music to the vows,
The venue to the food and drink
And toasts the pair allows.

The table decorations,
The bridal party’s clothes;
The readings at the ceremony
That the couple chose.

The gown, the veil, the flowers,
The photographer and dance;
The thousand details hardly
Reminiscent of romance.

Yet every wedding’s special
And unique to just those two,
Reflecting the decisions
Leading up to their “I do.”

And though you might compare them,
From that walking up the aisle,
All that matters is the way
The bride and groom begin to smile.

For the way they gaze so deeply
Into one another’s eyes
Is the same at every wedding,
Yet it’s always a surprise.