Thursday, March 23, 2017

Roger and Jen

In twenty-eleven, an Italy tour,
We hung out with Roger and Jen,
Exchanging addresses, though what were the odds
That we might ever see them again?

For with hundreds of miles and quite a few years
In between us, the chances were slim,
But an email popped up – they’d be here in New York
So they reached out, perhaps on a whim.

It was such a delight to connect once again
As we showed them some favorite spots
And at dinner we chatted some more as we filled
In the blanks and connected the dots.

But the biggest surprise, which just knocked off my socks,
Was discovering that, every day,
Roger goes to my site and reads all that I write –
I’m more touched than I know how to say!

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

The Branches

It’s brilliantly sunny but blustery cold.
The branches are heartily swaying;
And though I grow older, I’m younger than old
(Though I still try to cover the graying).

There’s plenty to time left to savor the days
No matter the sky or the weather,
Though I cannot be sure if a crystal ball gaze
Might reveal myself snapped from my tether.

The future’s a question mark, there’s no debate
So I guess I should live in the now
And delight in the dance that the branches create
For as long as my time will allow.

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

Chopping Some Ice

I had to chop some ice today
To free my snow-blocked car.
The sun was my assistant,
Helping soften from afar.

I borrowed from the handyman
A strong long-handled tool,
Which worked better than a shovel
And was really kinda cool.

It’s a gratifying feeling
To accomplish what you must
For when taking care of business,
Stress and worry bite the dust.

Monday, March 20, 2017


People are friendly whenever I’m lost
And helpful with giving advice.
It’s always worth asking when signals get crossed
And often, you needn’t ask twice.

New Yorkers are given a negative rap
For attitudes callous and mean
But all who have knowledge I might want to tap
Make their help appear rather routine.

So if stuck without knowing which way you should go
Scan the crowd for the friendliest face
And most likely, you’ll find yourself back in the know,
Never seeking a wild goose to chase.

Sunday, March 19, 2017

Small but Comfortable

My home is small but comfortable
To me and to my spouse.
It doesn’t have the room we’d get
If we lived in a house.

Yet here we raised our children
And we entertained as well.
Our guests felt warm and welcomed,
Least as far as I can tell.

It doesn’t take too much to make
A snug and cozy home,
Just like one need not be Robert Frost
To write a decent poem.

Saturday, March 18, 2017

Urban Blight

The railroad tracks pass close to streets
Where residents reside
And from the train, I gazed at views
The windows did provide.

Suburban homes soon segued
Into urban tracks of land
Where population density
Has gained the upper hand.

For every city tree we passed
Had slews of plastic bags
Embedded in its branches
Like a motley mass of flags.

Such a sad display of ugliness,
This scourge of city blight
Really opened up my eyes to
This environmental plight.

I’d gladly pay the nickel tax
To staunch the bag use flow,
But what I wonder is why people
Let the darn things go.

Friday, March 17, 2017


My grandson traces in a book
To build up pencil skills.
From one car to another
Every wavy line instills

A feeling of accomplishment,
Preparing him to write.
He's like a nested fledgling 
Not quite ready to take flight.

I watch him growing; with each step
That baby he replaces
And soon enough, his childhood
Will exist in merely traces.