Thursday, August 21, 2014


The sidewalk menu listed
All the specials of the day,
Inviting every passerby
With time and means to pay.

But one such item on the list
Elicited a grin
And made me wonder ‘bout the tool
That reeled that sucker in…

For “pole-caught tuna” was the dish
On which one might have dined;
Yet Huck or Jim upon their raft
Was what it brought to mind.

The restaurant wasn’t fancy
And I’m sure nobody thought
About the method used
To get that tuna snagged and caught.

If I were writing adjectives
To make that menu shine,
I guarantee that “pole-caught”
Wouldn’t be a choice of mine!

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

The Summer Sun

The summer sun was once my friend;
I basked beneath its glow,
But friendships often fade and this
Was one that had to go.

The younger me enjoyed a tan
On smooth and unlined skin,
But lately that is not the shape
My sagging self is in.

And danger lurks when sunshine
Causes cancer cells to bloom
So by soaking up some rays
I might be guaranteeing doom.

There was a time Apollo
Earned my every accolade,
Yet today I turn my back on him
And settle for the shade.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Inside the Bus

Inside the bus, I just got beat
By someone for an empty seat;
But as she sat, a voice rang out,
A beat too late, this warning shout –

That seat is wet so don’t sit down!
The sitter jumped up with a frown
And sure enough, the seat was soaked.
What is it? Miss Wet-Bottom croaked.

The one who knew said something spilled.
Miss Wet was not exactly thrilled
But seemed relieved it wasn’t pee;
I’m glad she got that seat, not me!

Monday, August 18, 2014


If you’ve an oak tree in your yard,
You might get clonked a bit too hard
By acorns which come raining down
As cooler weather comes to town.

The acorn, with its jaunty cap,
Won’t nail you with a gentle tap
But one that’s apt to leave you bruised
So Mother Nature stays amused.

Beware then of the sneak attack.
A gust of wind may cause a whack;
And only then you might dispute
That harm can’t come from something cute.

Sunday, August 17, 2014


A high-pitched screech announces
That the hawk is close at hand.
Whatever he is saying,
Other hawks must understand.

For me, I'm satisfied to hear
That plaintive, jarring screech,
Despite the fact its meaning,
For a human's, out of reach.

No matter if he's circling
Or swooping to a tree,
His neighborly communication's
Good enough for me.

Saturday, August 16, 2014


I bought a bracelet as a gift
But first I slipped it on my wrist
Where my intentions took a shift –
For really, how could I resist?

It looked quite perfect sitting there;
I couldn’t help but crack a smile
And though it was without compare,
A fool could tell it was my style.

My friend will think it’s rather great.
She’ll love its sleek and cool design
But for her gift, she’ll have to wait
For this one simply must be mine!

Friday, August 15, 2014

To Loiter

The sign said not to loiter
But I’ve never understood
The assumption that a loiterer
Is up to some no good.

So I say to all the fritterers
Or lollygagging crowd –
You should stand your ground and dally
Just as if you are allowed.

Show the world that you mean business;
You’re not plotting something crazy.
It’s American as apple pie
To slack off and be lazy.