Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Number 261

Number 261* ran a pretty good race.
Though she couldn’t have won it, she set a fine pace.
Her hat hid her hair but if you’d seen her face
You’d have realized she wasn’t a guy.

The year – ’67, a marathon run
In Boston, and soon after it’d begun
Officials decided her racing was done
And her gender the answer to “Why?”

For the course was for men; anyone called “her”
Had to skip it or hide who they really were.
K.V. Switzer she signed as, so they’d infer
That a male was the one to apply.

She resisted attempts to drag her away
And completed those miles, ignoring the fray.
Yet it took 5 more years, quite a lengthy delay,
‘Til the rule-makers had to comply.

Now at 70, Switzer, still true to form,
Ran in Boston, to welcomes both loud and warm.
Her gutsiness once took the world by storm
And her triumph no one can deny.

*Kathrine Switzer’s Boston Marathon number
  in both the 1967 and 2017 races

Monday, April 24, 2017

Rotten Tomatoes

The critics gave it 91,
The audience much lower,
A fact that only would confuse
The average movie-goer.

Though ratings are subjective,
They help us to decide
If certain cinematic feats
Are really worth the ride.

The timing worked and so we went;
To me, it came up short.
My husband, though, concurred with
What the critics did report.

I guess, to me at least, it seemed
To make a lot of sense
That 59’s the score awarded
By the audience.

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Keeping Connected

To keep connected
There’s a place
For phone calls, texts
Or face to face.

A drop-in with
A quick embrace
May be enough
To prove that case.

Though brevity
Might not replace
A longer visit’s
Lazy pace

The simple act
Of touching base
Means thoughts of you
They won’t erase.

Saturday, April 22, 2017


Seals are washing up on shore
In places they've not been before
So people are on high alert 
To let them be; they might be hurt.

A friend of mine lives by a beach
Where this occurred; she did beseech
Authorities to intervene.
For hours, no such help was seen.

The seal was struggling on shore 
And his prognosis seemed quite poor.
When experts showed the next day morn
A tiny burst of hope was born.

Alas, although the pros did try,
It was too late; the seal did die.
A sad conclusion, this defeat;
Some creatures we're not meant to meet.

Friday, April 21, 2017

Going to Bed

Children battle bedtime
'Cause the day is so much fun
That it's hard to call it quits
When the playing's not quite done.

It's the opposite with grown-ups
For the prospect of some sleep
Means our minds will catch a breather
From the burdens that we keep.

So we listen as the grandkids
Fight requests to go to bed
When there isn't any place that we
Would rather be instead.

Thursday, April 20, 2017


Here’s a little checklist
If you think you’re getting old.
Check off fewer than a couple
And perhaps you’ll be consoled.

Are you losing hair or finding it
In places unexpected?
Do you crave a turtleneck
So extra skin goes undetected?

Do you need a nap by 4 p.m.
And doze by the TV?
Do you wake up nightly, several times,
Because you have to pee?

Does a cough or cold last weeks and weeks
While energy is lagging?
Do the wrinkles in the mirror
Make your spirits feel like sagging?

Do you read a book or see a film
And then cannot recall it?
Does technology require help
‘Cause you cannot install it?

If you’ve answered yes to most of these,
Then, sadly, you’re among
Those of us, including Dylan,
Who are not “forever young.”

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Some Noises

Some noises startle, jolt or jar
While others soothe or soften.
We perk up for the new but tune out
Those we hear quite often.

To locals, city sirens make
The tiniest impression
But visitors consider them
A barbarous transgression.

The hum of traffic rolling by
To urbanites equates
With cricket chirps or chickadees
In countryside debates.

The noises that surround us
Are as varied as our homes
Or the subjects and the wording
Of a plethora of poems.