Sending it Back

My sandwich came on toasted rye;
The toast was overdone.
Without much thought, I sent it back
To get a different one.

My husband said had it been his,
He surely would have kept it,
Implying that it was
My obligation to accept it.

Perhaps I should have mentioned
That I like my toast real light,
But serving some approaching burnt
Seemed far from close to right.

When paying money for a meal,
The least that I expect
Is to be presented with a plate
I won’t need to reject.

Calendar Notes

It’s nice to fill the calendar
With plans for lots of dates,
Assuming that on most of them
Some pleasantry awaits.

A day with friends, a dinner out,
A trip to someplace new;
Some tickets to a sports event,
A concert or revue.

A little note reminds me
Soon there’ll be a fun event
And anticipation is enough
To make me feel content.

A Bench in the Shade

You’ve got it made
With a bench in the shade
When the sun is boiling hot
But you’ve been played
For this charade
Is part of Nature’s plot.

See, I’m afraid
You’ve been betrayed
For thinking that this spot
Will masquerade
The heat that’s weighed
You down – but it will not.

It’s just delayed
The rays displayed
From letting you know what
You might have prayed
To barricade
Has added up to squat.

Taking Wing

Sitting on a branch, the hawk
Seems regular in size.
He doesn’t reach magnificence
‘Til he takes to the skies.

Potential’s sometimes hidden
With the benefits it brings
But for man or beast it’s soon released
With the spreading of one’s wings.

Sweetness

The hummingbirds were waiting 
For their sugar water feed;
Some sweetness must be something 
Every species seems to need.

If you read these words and doubt them
Or dismiss them with a shrug,
Think of how we can be nourished
By the sweetness of a hug.

Got Milk?

I saw an ad for a brand-new fridge.
It made me jealous - just a smidge,
For every time its doors do close
(Which happens often, I suppose),

It snaps a photo, which is sent
Right to your phone and it is meant
To help you out when at the store
In case your memory is poor.

You low on milk? Your butter gone?
Your cheese used up? Rely upon
Your phone and fridge to let you know
The aisles to which you need to go.

A written list? That's so passe.
Technology will lead the way
And take us to the very brink
Of where we'll never have to think.

The Taking of Temperature

When Henry's toy thermometer
Was used to check his bear
For fever, I was most surprised
That not the derriere

Nor mouth was where he placed it,
For he made it very clear
That the best place for a reading
Was inside the teddy's ear.

I was poised to thus correct him
But I realized nowadays
That we measure kids for fever
In some unexpected ways.

In my day, things sure were different.
Still, we wouldn't need a push
To insert thermometers
Into the ear and not the tush.

Values

I was raised with honesty
The uncontested rule,
A policy that was enforced
At home and, too, at school.

An object found by chance or luck,
I very quickly learned,
Could never be embraced as mine,
But had to be returned.

The wrong change given in a store?
An error being billed?
I’d proudly point them out; those values
Solidly instilled.

But times have somehow changed and now
Things don’t seem black or white.
My conscience sometimes grapples with
What may be wrong or right.

And so, instead of pride, I felt
A sense of ridicule
When, admitting that I’d underpaid,
I looked more like a fool.

Prescription

My headache was a killer;
I was overdue for lunch.
Two hours at the iPhone store
Had wearied me a bunch.

The remedy was simple, though
(Much more so than the phone) –
Two Advil with some water
And a Shake Shack custard cone.

The flavor was a favorite
And the wait was not too long.
In just a flash I felt that
Not a thing at all was wrong.

So here is my prescription
When a headache makes you groan –
Take some Advil for your head
And for your soul, an ice cream cone!

With Grandkids at the Zoo

If you were at the zoo today,
Perhaps you also viewed
Some bison and a tiger
With a regal attitude.

Some antlered deer and tortoises,
Some lemurs, fish and snakes
And every creature making sounds
That Old MacDonald makes.

But if you were observant
Then you might have seen as well
A tired foursome riding
On the insect carousel.

The 3 year old delighted 
In his up and down-type bug
With his nana standing shotgun,
Arms protecting with a hug.

While the 1 year old and grandpa
Sat behind and took it in,
Both enjoying as they circled,
Each displaying quite a grin.

Yet upon a close inspection
You would say, and you'd be right,
That the 4 of them will very likely
Sleep real well tonight!

Hiding

This poem insists on hiding;
It’s resisting being found,
Despite the fact it knows full well
To daily verse I’m bound.

It’s teasing and it’s taunting
Staying just beyond my grasp.
I grapple with it but the words
Just vanish from my clasp.

I’m indebted to my pencil
For it’s managed to corral
This rambunctious little bugger,
Which has lifted my morale.

The Art of Destruction

She sat there waiting, patiently,
Assured of her success,
Indifferent to the certainty 
That she would cause duress.

She'd spun a trap so beautiful
It seemed a work of art,
Its gossamer perfection
Like the poison in a dart.

My bird's eye view allotted me
A close-up of the scene,
The window pane the only object
Coming in between.

I missed the grab, but fascinated,
Watched that silken thread
As it wrapped around the victim
Which, cocoon-like, hung there dead.

How heartless certain creatures seem,
But aren't we the same?
Though we lack the spider's ways,
To some, destruction is the aim.

For a bully isn't happy
'Til he savors the defeat 
Of his splayed-out prey, but spiders 
Merely want a bite to eat.

A Crumb

A crumb fell down from Henry's lunch
Onto the ground outside.
It soon attracted one small ant;
Perhaps he was the guide

For minutes later, all his friends
And relatives did show.
He'd spread the word but how he did it,
I will never know.

That little crumb made quite a feast
For every ant around
But how they heard about it
Is that part that does astound.

Fire Escapes

They hang from older buildings
To provide a way to flee
From a fire or another type
Of grim catastrophe.

“West Side Story’s” hero, Tony,
(Just like Romeo) did vouch
To Maria all his love
While on one’s surface she did crouch.

Countless films and TV dramas
Often use one as a base
For a criminal to exit
While the cops are giving chase.

In real life, I’ve never seen one
Used to hasten a descent.
Modern buildings now use stairways
Made of fire-proof cement.

Though necessity requires
Things to change, it seems a pity
That these structures soon will vanish,
Once a staple of the city.

Like Velcro

My brain was once like Velcro;
Each tidbit added stuck
And waited there, accessible
For me to find and pluck.

But all the space got taken;
The Velcro’s been replaced
By ancient masking tape from which
The glue has been erased.

So new additions do not stick
And cannot be retrieved.
Had I been warned when I was young,
I wouldn’t have believed.

Yet all things have their limits
And this, too, goes for the mind.
The more we age, the more we leave
What we once knew behind.

Our Lives

We look at other people’s lives,
So different from our own
And realize no one else’s days
Look like the ones we’ve known.

The way we choose to spend our time,
The structure of each week
Can’t be compared to anyone's,
For we all are unique.

Though similarities exist –
We eat, we bathe, we sleep –
That surface sameness skims the top
While differences run deep.

We’d have a lot of trouble
If our lives we’d have to trade
For it’s taken so much effort
To create the ones we’ve made.

My Sock Drawer

My socks are on vacation
For sandals rule the day,
Since summer’s heat demands
That unclad toes be on display.

They rest in little bundles
In their drawer where they await
The flipping of the calendar
Onto a cooler date.

I can’t say that I miss them;
My feet feel better bare
But when the weather changes,
They’ll be there for me to wear.

Outage

The thunder boomed; the lights went out.
The air was close and still.
Without the fans, we really couldn’t
Close our eyes and chill.

Our little lantern pierced the dark,
Its double A’s still pepped
And somehow, as the rain poured down,
Eventually, we slept.

Two hours passed; my lamp blinked on.
I felt a cooling breeze;
The power back, providing
Circulation to appease.

The heat’s been wreaking havoc;
Guess we have to learn to cope.
This pattern should be ending soon –
At least that’s what we hope.

Swimmers

I never learned the proper way
To swim, and so my form 
(With head above the water)
Is quite different from the norm.

I don't enjoy it anyway
And rarely hit a pool,
Preferring other exercise
And A/C to keep cool.

But watching the Olympians 
Torpedo in their lanes
Makes me marvel at such effort
Which both awes and entertains.

Every sport has its attractions
Yet each breaststroke somehow brings
All observers (me included)
Right into the swim of things.

An Indoor Day

An indoor day (too hot outside!)
Won't meet with much resistance
As long as there's creative play
(With just some slight assistance).

Toy vehicles drove carpet roads
While at the new play kitchen,
I ate some "Swiss cheese" cooked with "salt"
And man, that meal was bitchin'!

Next Dr. Bear saw patients
And he gave each one a shot.
Mr. Monkey didn't mind
But Turtle cried a lot.

All the plastic animals
Inside their Lego "zoo"
Made friends with every
Little People figure passing through.

Some books were read, toy piano played
And stickers were affixed.
When naptime ends, we'll see what's left
In Nana's bag of tricks!

Watching the Olympics

Watching the Olympics,
Streaming live or on TV,
Is quite thrilling and amazing,
All that it’s supposed to be.

The stories and performances
Are poignant and exciting;
The ceremonies and the medals
Psyching and uniting.

Despite the talk of Zika
And the crime on Rio’s streets,
The competition’s given us
Some television treats.

So play on, all you athletes;
We’re in awe of what you do
And are grateful that what you achieve
Is there for us to view.

Big Birthday

My aunt is turning 88
And this is how we’ll celebrate –
She’ll join me at my mah jongg game;
(Her playing will put mine to shame).

We’ll have some lunch – there’ll be a cake
With candles, so a wish she’ll make.
Then we’ll drive home to have a drink
With laughter as our glasses clink.

This day will cap a whirlwind week
Of festive gatherings unique,
For when a person’s reached this age,
She’s earned a spot on center stage.

Not everybody has the chance
(A stroke of luck or circumstance)
To have a birthday that’s observed
By all who think it’s well-deserved.

F is for Fired

Bob, Luis and Gordon,
Names that might just ring a bell,
Lived, at least to little children,
On a street* they knew quite well.

The actors who portrayed them
Started when the show was new,
Educational TV back then
Just making its debut.

They performed with mostly Muppets
And then guest stars who’d abound,
Though their constant presence promised
That they’d always be around.

So how shocking to discover
That all three have been let go,
All their years of such devotion
Ending in this final blow.

Lucky Big Bird, Bert and Ernie
And their Muppet friends are stuffed
Or they’d end up like the humans
Being rudely, crudely snuffed!

*Sesame Street

Leos

My life is filled with Leos;
Astronomically, that sign
Is described, if you believe it,
As compatible with mine.

Several people quite beloved
Have their birthdays in that range
Which, although I am a skeptic,
Doesn't really seem too strange.

So this Aries sends out wishes
To the Leos who await
Late July and most of August
For their chance to celebrate.

Smashing the Cake

As people cheer, the birthday girl
Swipes fingers at the cake.
A glob of frosting coats her hand
But this is no mistake.

For after all the singing
And the candles have been blown,
The birthday baby gets a cake  
To smash that's hers alone.

It's part of a tradition
When a child is turning 1;
As chocolate's smeared on face and clothes,
We get to watch the fun.

The messy part's a memory
That phones will have preserved
And while somebody cleans her up,
The real cake's cut and served.

It's really quite adorable 
But what I cannot gauge
Is just how cute the child will find it,
At a later age.

On Hadley's First Birthday

Such a happy little girl,
Adorable as well;
Impossible to not succumb
To your enchanting spell.

You mimic every gesture,
Stare intently at my eyes
And when we’re playing peekaboo,
You giggle in surprise.

I love the way you wave bye-bye
And shake your finger, “No!”
Despite the fact you wish each crumb
Into your mouth could go.

You’re super speedy as you crawl
And soon enough, you’ll walk
And all those da-da na-na sounds
Will be replaced by talk.

Today, though, is your birthday.
We’ll all come to celebrate
And rejoice in all your progress
Every August on this date.

Child's Play

When a toy requires assembly,
There is danger up ahead
For it never will be easy - 
Doesn't matter what they said.

If instructions come in pictures,
Then this warning you can double,
'Cause deciphering them wrong
Will likely get you into trouble.

With three phone calls to the hotline,
We're still stuck on step eleven.
Anybody who can do this
Sure deserves a place in heaven.

The End of VHS

Our kids were young when VHS
Changed how we watched TV.
We popped a tape in when there was
A film we’d want to see.

We didn’t have to wait until
Our favorites would appear
Like in my youth, when “Oz” (the Wizard)
Came on once a year.

Of course, the tapes could break
And there were times when they got stuck.
Repairs just didn’t work and so
We just were out of luck.

When DVD’s came out, the tapes
Quite soon became passé,
Although our player and some tapes
Are still around today.

Just one remaining business
Manufactured the machines
But they’ve just fallen victim
To our modern tech routines.

Like dial-up phones and toasters,
Skates with keys and TV Guide,
The once-cool VHS tapes
In the past will now reside.

Making a Choice

When options are presented
And I have to make a choice,
The more I see, the less that my
Opinion I can voice.

For choosing A or B or C
Sets limits I’ll accept.
When there are more alternatives,
My certainty gets swept.

The smaller the selection,
That much quicker I’ll decide,
A rule of thumb that in all walks
Of life can be applied.

The Apple Store

For certain things I’m just too old –
The Apple Store is one.
As soon as I set foot inside,
I want to turn and run.

The counters where they make you stand,
(Why not a stool to sit?)
The questions that they ask
Which I can’t answer, not a whit.

The staff can barely tolerate
A dinosaur like me,
Losing patience when I can’t produce
My Apple Cloud ID.

They never solve my problems
So it’s anybody’s guess
Whey my Cloud account must linger
At my old email address.

My iPhone needs an upgrade –
That’s a fact I can embrace –
But I’ll buy it someplace where at least
I won’t feel out of place.

Being Ready

I need some new glasses,
An iPhone as well,
But Procrastinationville’s
Where I do dwell.

I’ve stopped at opticians
Plus AT&T,
Departing without
A commitment from me.

Since neither is urgent,
I let months pass by,
Convincing myself
That a purchase was nigh.

A bicycle, too,
Is up high on my list.
I Google the site
But each time I resist.

Except that today,
I felt ready at last.
I ordered new glasses;
My spouse was aghast.

I checked out the phone store;
My model is out
But the next time it’s in,
I will get it, no doubt.

And as for the bike
I am right on the verge
For today both desire
And timing did merge.

No matter how much I
Stay focused and steady,
I can’t complete anything
‘Til I am ready.