It's a Wrap

We wrap up a present,
Wrap up a tale;
Wrap a package that we plan
To send out through the mail.

We wrap a scarf around us;
Wrap some cold cuts tight,
So the insides won't fall out
Each time we take a bite.

A comic wraps his set up 
And now the time is here,
As I am sure you've figured out,
To wrap up one more year.

My Dad's Birthday

My dad, who died at 55,
Is etched inside my heart,
Despite the fact it's almost
Forty years we've been apart.

Today's his birthday; had he lived,
There'd be a Carvel cake.
(One year I baked a cake from scratch,
But that was a mistake.)

I conjure up his face and there, 
As clear as it can be,
A vision of him laughing 
Is what floats in front of me.

That's quite a lovely legacy 
For one to leave behind -
A smile and laughter tattooed
In a loved one's heart and mind.

Behind the Words

Behind the words, there might exist
A message that’s unspoken,
A code that those who listen well
Might realize they have broken.

For what is said aloud may not
Convey the total meaning
And sometimes one can’t even tell
Which way the speaker’s leaning.

Reacting to an answer that
A query may solicit
Could possible ignore a thought
That’s glaringly implicit.

The words released into the air
From someone’s mouth and mind stem
Quite often hide some connotations
Lurking them behind them.

Rescue Trucks

The flashing lights alerted us
That something was awry,
With rescue trucks preventing
Any traffic getting by.

Adjacent to the river, there were
Police upon the scene
And rubberneckers focusing
On something not routine.

My curiosity aroused,
But blocked by all the crews,
I googled the location but
There wasn’t any news.

The light turned green; we drove on through
And never found out why.
It must’ve been somebody’s,
But was not my day to die.

Visiting Daddy at Work

We drove them to the city 
To where their daddy works
And double-parked outside, one of
The holiday-week perks.

The elevator zoomed them up;
The boss gave a hello.
They drew upon a white board,
Making pictures they could show.

The office mates had candy
Which, naturally, they shared, 
A no-no on a normal day;
Today, though, no one cared.

A half an hour later, 
Their daddy brought them down.
We drove to our apartment
On the other side of town.

A little lunch, some time to veg
Then back to home sweet home,
A holiday tradition and
A subject for a poem.

Old Habits

The day after Christmas 
Each year, without fail,
I hunt down my calendars 
Since they're on sale.

I head to the bookstore 
And search through the racks 
For the wall-hanging ones
Then I look through the stacks

Of the page-a-day versions;
I purchase both kinds
And I won't leave until
I'm content with my finds.

Could I buy them before 
And the sales disregard?
Well, the answer's "Of course!"
But old habits die hard.

On Christmas Day

To me, it's just another day
With songs I'm sick of hearing,
Though it's a nice reminder 
That the end of year is nearing.

I do enjoy the festive lights
And after Christmas prices,
The stores infused with pine tree scent
And other Christmas spices.

Yet all the hoopla, all the hype
That happens each December 
Reminds me of a country club
Where I am not a member.

Yet that's okay, my candles glow
And am I happy? Very!
So let me wish my Christmas friends 
A day that's sweet and merry.

Music

There's always music in our house 
From when we first awaken.
Unless the TV's on, at night,
It rarely is forsaken.

The radio provides the tracks 
And what we like may vary,
From classical to rock to blues,
Whatever tunes they carry.

At times, a CD may replace 
The FM's current choices
If their selections don't reflect
Our wish for certain voices.

The car is also well-equipped
To meet our needs when driving
And Sirius provides the songs 
For happy road surviving.

I can't imagine life without 
The music that surrounds us,
A sustenance like food or air 
That definitely grounds us.

Ushering Out the Year

The day was warm for winter;
The sun was shining bright.
The skaters circled on the ice
And held each other tight.

The booths were filled with shoppers
In search of stocking fare.
The carousel spun ‘round, its music
Wafting in the air.

We wandered through the market,
Suburban pals in tow,
So glad our day had sunshine
‘Stead of bitter cold or snow.

At lunch, we laughed and chatted
And clinked our pints of beer,
With promises of meeting
Once again this time next year.

A holiday tradition
With some dear and long-time friends
Is the perfect way to usher out
December, as it ends.

First Night of Chanukah

We went downtown for a movie
Near an upscale place for food
Filled with kiosks, booths and dining
For whatever suits your mood.

I tried ice cream made with squid ink –
Smooth but black as darkest night,
Also cold-brew coffee flavor
On a cone, a pure delight.

But attracted by some singing,
We walked by to check it out.
When we saw a huge menorah,
We knew what it was about.

For tonight we light a candle,
After sunset, for the start
Of a holiday called Chanukah,
Which sets the Jews apart.

But New York’s the home to many,
Lots of whom were gathered ‘round
To join in the candle-lighting
And the songs which did resound.

It felt good to be a witness
To a most amazing thing –
Total strangers linked together
And the joy that it can bring.

Feeling Cozy

You don’t need a log on a fire.
You don’t need a soft sheepskin rug;
Just a comfortable place
That you’ve made your own space
And, if lucky, a smile or a hug.

Forget all those candles and dimmers
Or potpourri wafting above;
When you’re home in your nest
What most people like best
Is to know you’re surrounded by love.

Alligators

The floor is tiled in white and green
Outside the ballet class
Where all the girls run up and down
To make the minutes pass.

Today a new game started - 
Only walk on parts of green
For alligators maybe hiding
In the white, unseen.

The ballerinas hop and jump,
Avoiding floor that's white,
All following a leader,
Shrieking in pretended fright.

This new adventure fills the time
Until the teacher calls,
The alligators waiting
In the peaceful, silent halls.

A Bite a Night

Before we left Stockholm
I purchased a stash
Of licorice tubes,
Using credit, not cash.

I followed their customs
Where money’s not used
And licorice rules.
(I, of course, was enthused.)

The treats that I bought
Have a lemon-filled base
Which black licorice spirals
Do snugly encase.

Every night since I’m home
I indulge in a bite
Which, aside from providing
A taste to delight…

Brings me back to my trip
In a sensory flash.
I’ll be sad when I finish
My licorice cache.

Christmas Markets

How I love this time of year
When Christmas markets beckon!
All major cities have them
And some small towns, too, I reckon.

The festive booths display their wares,
A lot of them hand-crafted,
Their quality assuring you
That no, you won’t get shafted.

From jewelry (my favorite)
To ceramics, hats and leather,
The dealers ply their products
In whatever kind of weather.

For now’s the time that people buy –
The ornaments and mittens
And toys and t-shirts, socks and mugs
Adorned with pups or kittens.

Of course, there’s hot mulled cider
Paired with donuts, for such offers
Keep shoppers warm and cozy,
Tempting them to fill the coffers.

Today I splurged on earrings
Though I’m often quite contented
To just browse and see what’s out there,
All so very well-presented!

Pouring Rain

The pouring rain is good for trees
And sidewalks (if it doesn’t freeze).
It cleans off cars and trucks as well
And helps umbrella men to sell.

Yet it’s a pain for those who ride
Their bikes or have to walk outside.
The puddles splash and soak your pants
Despite your best avoidance dance.

Umbrellas cover just so much,
With parts exposed too wet to touch.
Once back at home, from rain-drenched trip,
The coats and boots relax and drip.

A Stabbing

A student who was stabbed to death,
It’s horrible to learn,
Was set upon by kids so young
It made my stomach turn.

One robber, 13 years of age,
Took part in the attack.
For criminals of such an age,
There is no going back.

I know that’s pessimistic
But a teen who has a knife
Shouldn’t, with things being equal,
Have such disregard for life.

Though rehabilitation
May be ordered by the state
For both the victim and the perps,
It seems too little much too late.

Gift Exchange

When giving gifts, it’s nice to try
To tailor every choice you buy
To that which each recipient
Would like and doesn’t cost a mint.

Some options jump out in a flash
While others cause your teeth to gnash
And as the holidays draw near
Anxiety may thus appear.

Decisions aren’t life or death,
So calm yourself and take a breath.
If no gift seems the perfect one,
Just anything beats giving none.

Resort to generalities
For often, they may even please –
Some candy, flowers, books or wine
Will do the trick and you’ll be fine.

Remember – it’s the thought that counts
But how I wish I could renounce
The ritual of gifts exchanged
Which, yearly, makes me feel deranged.

Tremfya

Who names these medications
The commercials always tout?
Since one is weirder than the next,
I’d like to find that out.

Xeljanz and Trulicity,
Cosentyx and Tremfya
Join with manufacturers
Who might Abilify ya.

I picture people in a room
With lettered cubes who toss ‘em
To see which combinations stick,
Deciding some are awesome.

To me, they sound ridiculous
No matter what they’re used for
And viewers, seeing names like these,
Could never be confused more.

Tea Party

The 4 year olds were all invited
For a cup of tea,
Though whether they will drink it
Is a mystery to me.

A get-together after school,
With only girls allowed,
Seems like a perfect setting
For the ballet-dancing crowd.

The babysitter runs the show
With toys and games and snacks 
So all the moms and nanas
Have some time to just relax.

Though calling it a tea party
Brings Alice to my mind,
In modern lingo, I would guess
It's differently defined.

Greetings from Afar

At holiday time, I oftentimes hear
From some I don’t speak to the rest of the year.
In fact, for a few, it’s a decade or more
Since we’ve seen one another, despite our rapport.

For distance and time and life’s twists and its turns
Make us focus on much more connected concerns
So acquaintances out of the everyday loop
Likely fade away into that Christmas card group.

Still, it’s nice to get greetings in Chanukah cards
From old friends who reach out just to give their regards
For a wish from a buddy you knew long ago
Can contribute more warmth to that seasonal glow.

Flight Delays

Nothing's ever certain 
When relying on a flight.
You may confront delays for which
You're powerless to fight.

A little snow or fog or else
Mechanical concerns
Might get you where you're going late -
Departures or returns.

It's futile making solid plans -
They're bound to disappoint 
And when they do, just try your best
To not get out of joint.

Tea Time

My aunt's a fan of "Tea Time,"
Which takes place each day at 4,
When drinks and chips and dips are served 
And sometimes even more.

We sit and schmooze and sip and nosh
Before our evening meal.
It's time to just chill out; relaxing
Is the main appeal.

By dinner time, if we head out,
We've had our share of booze,
Our restaurant bill much lighter,
'Cept for refills, if we choose.

Visiting Florida in December

Lit up snowmen on the lawn
In weather warm and sunny;
Dolphin Santa in a sleigh
Flamingo-drawn, so funny!

Christmas decorations change
Depending on location
And likely, there'll be many forms
Of festive celebration.

No matter where you choose to be
As holidays draw nearer,
The universal need for joy
This season gets much clearer.

Success

So, you might be thinking,
Was the weekend a success?
Our grandson staying over
In the city? Goodness, yes!

The bus, the train, the dinosaurs,
A tournament of chess,
A playground smack in Central Park
And who could ever guess...

A play date with a neighbor's kids
Without a drop of stress
And dinner in a noodle place 
One block from our address;

A fruit stand stop, hot cocoa,
Easy bedtimes (no duress),
A checker game and reading books
(Pinocchio, no less).

The proof, though, lies in Henry's words
Which I do not finesse:
"Can I come back next weekend?"
I would say that spells success.

Natural History

We got there when it opened
And we raced right up to 4.
The dinosaurs were waiting;
Some excitement was in store.

We stopped at every case and looked
As Henry posed in front.
From room to room we wandered
On a dino-fossil hunt.

Attention started flagging
So we found our way instead
To the hall of dioramas
With their animals (all dead).

Just one more thing, we pleaded.
There’s a giant big blue whale
But the patience of a 6 year old,
It seemed, would like prevail.

We zipped our coats and headed out
Before it all turned sour.
Maybe next time, we will stay
A bit more than an hour!

City Weekend

While his sister hosts a party,
(Only females may attend)
We'll be entertaining Henry
And the fun will never end.

What we plan is a museum 
(Getting there by train and bus)
And a play date with a neighbor,
Who lives down the hall from us.

Maybe walking by the river 
Or the playground or a store,
Reading books in our apartment,
Playing games and so much more.

Can you tell that I'm excited?
It will bring this nana joy
To spend hours in the city 
With her very favorite boy.

Get Thee to the Whitney!

Get thee to the Whitney!
It’s the one thing you should do
If you’re in New York, to see
The kitchen made by Liza Lou.

It’s a life-sized recreation
Of a room each person needs,
But the fridge and stove and table
Have been topped with shiny beads.

Every detail’s been considered
In constructing what you’d find
In an average household’s kitchen
And amazingly designed.

There’s the Tide and there’s the Comet,
Cap’n Crunch and Frosted Flakes,
Cherry pie still in the oven
Muffin tin with little cakes.

On the sink that’s full of dishes
There’s the plastic yellow Joy
Plus a broom and dustpan waiting
For a housewife to employ.

It took five long years to finish
Setting every bead in place
But the final product’s something
Every person can embrace.

So if visiting the city,
Take my word and find your way
To a very cool museum
With this kitchen on display.

Winter Parade

In a town in West Virginia,
The annual parade,
A holiday tradition,
Was to be differently portrayed.

For the brand-new mayor, wanting
To make all feel they belonged,
Changed the Christmas parade to Winter,
But most residents felt they’d be wronged.

It’s a sticky tricky topic
Coming up this time of year
For so many who celebrate Christmas
Make their thoughts unmistakably clear.

“Happy Holidays” simply won’t cut it
And a “Winter” parade just won’t do;
Even if there’s still Santa and reindeer
Changing “Christmas” is simply taboo.

So the mayor gave in to her critics
And the Christmas parade will proceed
Though the locals would never have changed it
In their minds or their hearts – guaranteed.

Windows

My view outside is windows,
All lit up for the night,
The gleaming squares assuring me
That everything’s all right.

I rarely see the people
Whose lights I see aglow.
Of course, they wouldn’t be, most likely,
Anyone I know.

It’s comforting, regardless,
That all who do reside
Within my range of vision now
Are safely tucked inside.

Vicious Cycle

It might still be some jet lag
But every night I crash
And from the couch into the bed
Too early I do dash.

So if at half past 7,
I’m deep inside a snooze,
By 1 a.m. or earlier
My brain has paid its dues.

I’m wide awake and simply can’t
Get back into a sleep.
I toss and turn while in my mind
All stressful thoughts do creep.

Until the sun comes up I try
Then just give up and read.
My day progresses as it should
But what is guaranteed…

Is that by 7:30
I’ll be fading super fast,
A vicious cycle which I hope
Will not much longer last.

Shuffling Slowly

The snow turned into freezing rain
So walking wasn’t easy.
We shuffled slowly; fear of falling
Made me slightly queasy.

As younger folk went traipsing by
I realized, on reflection,
That once-upon-a-time my body
Needed no protection.

Yet, though in shape, I worry now
For aging bones may shatter
So caution reigns supreme as mind’s
Triumphant over matter.

Billboard

The billboard on the highway
Had no product there to sell
But asked a question: Will you go
To Heaven or to Hell?

Below, there was a number
You could call or you could text
So you could get an answer as to
Where you’re going next.

I wonder just how many
Will give in and make that call,
Though hopefully the truth would be
Nobody after all.

Yet I suspect there are some souls
Both gullible and rash
Who would, for that information,
Part with lots of hard-earned cash.

Holiday Leftovers

When hosting a holiday meal
There's always a certain appeal
To food that remains 
For you've taken such pains
To prepare it, it seemed an ordeal.

But after the guests have all split
If you're honest, you'll have to admit 
That your efforts have paid
Since the food that you've made 
Can be eaten for days, bit by bit.

Anxiety's Pull

When hosting on Thanksgiving Day,
I worry there won’t be enough
For it’s the American way,
On holidays, to overstuff.

If I were alone with my spouse,
We’d eat a few bites and be full
But when there are guests in our house,
I give in to anxiety’s pull.

Should I run to buy more at the store
Or stop fretting and try to relax?
It won’t be many hours before
All the company will have made tracks.

What’s the worst that can happen, I think –
There’ll be talk that we needed more food
But perhaps with a bit more to drink
We’ll all be in that holiday mood.

Anniversary Poem

Got married on Thanksgiving Day;
A backyard was the venue.
Extended family gathered;
There was turkey on the menu.

It inconvenienced everyone
Yet those who loved us made it.
The traffic was horrendous
And the stress did thus pervade it.

But now, 44 years later,
Here we are and still together.
Looking back, we couldn’t know
The many storms we’d have to weather.

Still, we did it as a team
And it’s kept us both from sinking
So we’ll head out for a meal
And a toast with what we’re drinking.

In the Time Zone Zone

For every hour difference
In a time zone where you’ve traveled
There’s another day of jet lag
Which can make you feel unraveled.

That’s the story I’ve been told
And it’s up for some debating
But I know it’s many years
Since I’ve heard it circulating.

I’m just back from overseas,
With 6 hours or time between us.
If you saw my spouse and me,
You might want to quarantine us.

For exhausted’s how we look
Though we’re back to navigating
All the bits of our routines;
Still, 5 tired days are waiting.

Cashless

We never used an ATM
In Stockholm, on our trip.
The guide on our free walking tour
Took dollars for a tip.

For every other purchase
We used charge cards like the Swedes,
Since coins and bills, it seems, are things
Today nobody needs.

A sign in a museum 
Made the point with quite a splash:
"We accept just who you are but we
Are not accepting cash."

How strange to visit someplace 
With no currency in hand.
Perhaps someday all cash will be
Considered contraband.

Licorice

In New York and so many places,
Chocolate shops abound,
Where milk and dark and white, with nuts
Or not, can all be found.

Yet here in Sweden, there's a store,
If you want something sweet,
Which carries only licorice,
A Nordic candy treat.

Varieties are plentiful,
Including those with salt, 
Which you may want to spit right out;
If so, it's not your fault.

For licorice, the jet black kind,
You either love or hate.
I love it but when made with salt,
I simply can't relate.

Yet other combinations,
Like with chocolate or fruit,
Taste delicious and they come in
Different styles and shapes, to boot.

Today, my last in Sweden,
I stocked up to take back home,
So I'm leaving with sweet mem'ries
And the topic for a poem!

Learning the City

Took the hop-on, hop-off boat
To Skansen in the cold, 
An open-air museum
Worth the visit, we were told.

We wandered 'round and stopped inside
Old farmsteads, barns and school 
Where guides in olden costumes
Told the history, so cool.

Varieties of animals,
From ponies, goats and cows
Were there to see as well as 
Nordic wolves and moose a'browse.

From there we went to Abba,
A museum filled with song;
Watched videos and naturally
Did dance and sing along.

Another boat to Old Town
And the Christmas market crowd,
Then watched a candy maker work,
Where everyone was wowed.

Stopped briefly in a Blues club
Where we listened, packed in tight,
To a band on board to usher
All its fans into the night.

Up next, a lovely dinner
In a cozy local place
Where they found a little table
So some tourists they'd embrace.

At last, we made our way back 
To our room in the hotel,
On streets that by day 3 we can
Maneuver pretty well.

Tomorrow will be easy 
For we've learned our way around.
It's a pity, though, that Monday
We'll be flying homeward bound.

Vasamuseet

In August, 1628,
A Swedish warship sailed,
Yet on her maiden voyage
Every safety system failed.

The Vasa, tall and narrow,
Was too heavy on the top.
She teetered in the wind and then
She couldn't seem to stop.

Her trip was 20 minutes;
It took just 5 more to sink.
Though most escaped, some 30 souls
Did perish in the drink. 

Amazingly, the ship was found
In 1961,
333 years since
She'd had her short-lived run.

Remarkably, they raised her hull,
Which mostly was intact
And built a new museum*
Where the crowds she does attract.

If you're in Stockholm, visit;
It's a wonder to observe,
A tribute both to Nature
And the experts who conserve.

*Vasamuseet

Christiania

A hippieish community
You enter through a gate
Is Christiania, to which 
Some people can't relate.

Mosaic art is everywhere
And sculpture made from goods
Abandoned or discarded from
The outer neighborhoods.

A market sells necessities 
For credit cards or cash 
And Pusher Street (no photos, please!)
Has different strains of hash.

The residents inhabit
What began as squatters' pads
In varied styles of funky,
Though now home to moms and dads.

The lifestyle's very different 
From the city* right outside
But the Christianians see what
They've built with joy and pride.

*Copenhagen

Tivoli Gardens

It doesn't feel like Disney World
Though it has lots of rides 
And food and fun and shops galore
It naturally provides.

Since 1843, it's been
A Copenhagen treat,
A perfect place downtown
For friends and family to meet.

You stroll right up and pay the fee
And then you're on your way -
No snaking lines or checking bags
To spoil your night or day.

Despite the cold, the festive lights
And sparkling decorations 
Are there to welcome locals
And those here from other nations.

The Danes have made a special place
Without commercial shtick.
Appealing to the grown-ups 
Is what likely does the trick.

Viking Genes

First we saw some skinny dippers 
Jump in the canal.
Guess that's not unusual 
Today for this locale.

Then we saw two twenty-somethings
Going for a dip.
With temps down in the 40's
That is something I could skip.

My husband asked them if this was
A part of their routines 
And how they did it in the cold -
They answered, "Viking genes."

We're here in Copenhagen
So perhaps their claim is true
But being from New York I think
They must have lost a screw!

Away

Though never one to take much risk,
My younger self, at least,
Would view life as a banquet 
And be ready for a feast.

I'd sample some exotic tastes
And venture, armed with pluck,
To unfamiliar places,
Never worried I'd be stuck.

I'd marvel at the vast array
Of offerings to choose, 
Without the aid of tour groups,
Led by bus or van or cruise.

My older self, however, 
Having savored many treats,
Is less likely to explore, with ease,
Unknown or foreign streets.

So being in a brand-new place, 
Though temptingly arrayed,
Has me, sadly, having to admit 
I'm just a bit afraid.

Of course, we'll go and do and see
But not quite like before.
We'll still dive in but nowadays 
Stick closer to the shore.

Transfers

When needing a transfer, by ferry or plane
And time's the determining factor,
It's hard to stay calm 'cause a place in your brain
Sparks some stress like an A-bomb reactor.

The panic sets in that you will not connect
So you race at a speed that looks frantic
And when it turns out that you weren't correct,
The relief that you feel is gigantic.

Still, it takes quite a while for your heart to slow down 
And regain the composure you've squandered.
Perhaps your next journey to some distant town
Will be solely to where your mind's wandered.

Mystified

A book out from the library
Occasionally holds
A paper with a message
Or a list within its folds.

The borrower who left it
May have used it as a mark,
Reminding her whence in the tale
She needs to disembark.

I’m used to such remainders
But today I was surprised
To take note of someone’s writing
In a place that mystified.

On the last page of my writing book
(Which I am now approaching)
There’s an inked-in cell phone number
On my private space encroaching.

Above it are some letters
But they do not spell a name.
Did someone write this in the store
From which this journal came?

Of course, I never noticed it;
The book appeared brand-new
And really, what’s the difference?
There is nothing I can do.

I had the thought, though, what if I
Picked up the phone to dial
That number waiting there? I won’t,
But oh, that makes me smile!

TGIF

Weekdays are when most folks work,
With weekends set for rest
And so their spirits start to perk
As workdays have progressed.

When Friday rolls around, there's joy
And also some relief
That finally, at last, oh boy!
From work, they can debrief.

It's strange, but even once retired,
Fridays still rank high.
Though work-type stresses have expired,
All good thoughts apply.

For me, there is an added plus -
It's babysitting day.
Explaining is superfluous
If grandkids come your way.

Wednesday and Friday

In kindergarten, years ago,
Each day, upon my blouse,
My mother pinned a handkerchief
Before I left the house.

They weren’t meant to blow my nose,
Just there for decoration,
With printed names of weekdays
Worn in suitable rotation.

Amazingly, the Wednesday and
The Friday still exist,
Two items that, when cleaning house,
My mother must have missed.

So all this time, I’ve kept them,
Tucked away so they would last,
A tangible reminder
That connects me to my past.

World Kindness Day

You may not know today’s the day
Designed for being kind
So it’s a chance for you to pay
Benevolence some mind.

Get off your butt and give a seat
To someone who can use it
And smile at everyone you meet;
If someone scowls, excuse it.

With chores around the house, assist
And change to right a wrong
By calling kith or kin who’ve missed
Your voice for way too long.

Acknowledge those who have your back;
Boost someone’s self-esteem.
Encourage all to stay on track
When following a dream.

We shouldn’t need a special day
For all of us can spare
Some kindness shown along the way
So others know we care.