Fitting

On a table in the laundry room
Where tenants fold their clothes
Was a pair of jeggings left there
By a neighbor, I suppose.

A cross between some leggings
And a stretchy pair of jeans,
They’re often worm with tunic tops
By those of us not teens.

A note attached said something like,
“Brand new, but much too small.
If you’re a skinny gal, they’re yours.”
So what’s the protocol?

I thought they’d fit, so took them home
And they felt good to me,
A fitting treat on laundry day
From someone neighborly.

Exceptions to the Gray

The water’s gray and so’s the sky
And all the buildings passing by
As well as cars and people’s clothes –
The gray’s contagious, I suppose.

Yet two exceptions pierce the gloom,
Intentionally, you’d assume –
The yellow of the school bus fleet
And taxi cabs with fares to meet.

Though just for fall, some golden trees
Join forces on these yellow sprees
To brighten up a dismal day
When (mostly) everything is gray.

The Same

Before I got my brand-new fridge
(A sad necessity)
I took a picture of the old one
Just so I could see

Exactly where each magnet went
To help me recreate
The placement of mementos
I had used to decorate.

For after I removed them
And the door looked stark and bare,
I never would have known exactly
What or which went where.

But once the new fridge took its place
I easily arranged
Each photo and each souvenir;
(Just two or three got changed).

I like when things remain the same
(A fault of mine, I know)
So finding ways to make that work’s
For me, the way to go.

To Fret

Life would be a whole lot better
If I weren’t such a fretter.
Yet, that’s just my worried way;
I guess it’s in my DNA.

I wish I could be less uptight
And trust all that will be all right
But worry worms its way inside
And somehow it gets magnified.

To let things slide, it’s very plain,
For me would go against the grain
So what I do, which I regret,
Is agonize and fret, fret, fret!

Before the Sun

Early morning, took my walk
Before the rising sun.
On the rain-slicked city streets,
I was the only one.

Not another soul in sight,
The sidewalks all for me,
Which felt like post-Apocalypse
And I a refugee.

It isn’t very often
That Manhattan seems so stark,
Accentuated by the rain,
The wind, the hour, the dark.

At least, on several corners,
Glowed an all-night deli’s light,
Assuring me, despite the void,
That things would be all right.

Mentalist

Saw a mentalist today;
His name is Derren Brown.
You can’t explain the things he does –
Your world goes upside down.

He nicely asked the audience
It they would not reveal
Illusions witnessed on the stage
Despite their strong appeal.

So all that I’m allowed to say
Is I enjoyed his show
And if you have a chance to see it,
I’d suggest you go.

Awaiting a Face

The pumpkin sits there waiting 
For its jack-o-lantern face,
Which soon enough that orange smoothness
It will thus replace.

Decisions will be left to both
The grandkids and the dad
Regarding its expression -
Happy, scary, shocked or mad.

I won't be there when they begin
The scooping of the seeds
But hope they're toasted, a tradition
Nana always heeds.

Next Friday, when we babysit,
I'll see what they have made,
Which may be in the garbage
Or, I'm hoping, still displayed.

Everything at Once

Sometimes there's time that you're trying to fill,
A stretch with no upcoming plans,
When suddenly, hours you were needing to kill
Disappear like a movie with pans.

For everything happens at once, so it seems -
Obligations, repairs and requests,
Adding stress to your life and appearing in dreams
Where you find yourself failing all tests.

The expression is apt - either famine or feast
Is the way that the world tends to go
And, of course, at those times you expect it the least
That's when problems and obstacles show.

Appliance Colors

Looking at appliances
(My fridge is on the fritz)
I noticed there are trends to which
Each company commits.

For kitchen items mostly come
In silver stainless steel,
A modern look that to my taste
Does not have much appeal.

I like refrigerators
That are plain and simply white,
Though finding one to fit has been
A disappointing plight.

At last a few have surfaced
Which is cause for some bravado
Yet I’d settle for the stainless
More than gold* or avocado*!

*popular appliance colors in the 1960’s

Road Signs

Driving home I watch the signs
For “Food Phone Lodging Gas,”
All of which, so far at least,
We zip along and pass.

Soon newer signs replace them,
With a picture of a bed
Or a gas pump or a fork and knife,
No words that must be read.

There is one icon missing
For the one that isn’t shown
Is what most of us have with us,
Which is, naturally, the phone.

Fairy Houses

The Gardens* had some houses,
Teeny tiny ones they'd made,
Hidden next to pots of flowers
Quite adorably displayed.

Twigs and acorns, fruits and berries
Formed the roofs, the doors and walls 
Of these little homes just waiting 
'Til a neighbor fairy calls.

For they're known as fairy houses,
Meant to stir creative sorts
Needing outlets for their vision
Where the fairy world cavorts.

We spied not a single fairy
But loved spotting where they might,
After visitors have vanished,
At their tiny doors alight.

*Tower Hill Botanical Gardens in Massachusetts 

Unfolding

The leaves are slowly changing
To their russets, reds and golds
As the temps start dropping lower
So that autumn thus unfolds.

The porches decked with pumpkins 
Or with bright and cheery mums
Are reminders to acknowledge 
Crisp and chilly weather comes.

My t-shirts have been folded
And my arms sport longer sleeves,
Their hues quite often matching 
All the cozy-colored leaves.

My very favorite season,
With the palette I adore,
Often startles with its beauty,
Fading while I still want more.

Zappos

My preference when shopping’s to go to a store
And that’s how I always have done it before,
But they’re disappearing (I guess that’s not news)
And I was in need of specific new shoes.

Well, actually, boots of the weather-proof kind
And though I had nothing exactly in mind
I knew when I saw them they’d set off a spark;
I clicked open Zappos as more of a lark.

I scrolled several pages then found one or two
That might possibly do what I wanted them to.
Just one more made the cut from a brand I know well
So I ordered all three and I waited a spell.

When the big box arrived one and two were a bust
But I love number three; they’re the brand that I trust.
I packed up the others and sent them on back,
As easy as placing them back on the rack.

I’m sorry to add to the customer base
Whose shopping online means that stores can’t keep pace…
Yet I’m grateful to Zappos and so are my feet
For my purchase of perfect new boots was a treat!

At the Pediatrician's

Unexpected sickness;
Kids were home from school.
Took them to the doctor;
That’s the current rule.

Crayons in the waiting room;
Coloring and calm.
Cartoons in the background
Acting like a toddler balm.

Called into the office;
Temps and check the ears.
Waiting for the shoe to drop –
Hysteria and tears.

Strep swab does in Henry;
Flu shot’s Hadley’s bane.
Hard to hold them down and watch
Their terror and their pain.

Over in a minute –
Home for soup and rest.
Not the day we’d planned on
As you might have likely guessed.

Still, it’s part and parcel
Of our babysitting days,
Though doctor’s visits make me think
That we deserve a raise!

Seat-Seekers

Two fat guys on a subway train,
Taking lots of space,
Had room enough between them
For a thin one to embrace.

A standing pole prevented
Easy access to the seat
So most of us considered
It not worth it to compete.

But twice, new passengers approached
And asked one guy to move,
A question totally ignored
For he was in his groove.

With phone in hand and head kept down
He blew off the request
And acted like he wasn’t
The malingerer addressed.

The first seat-seeker merely shrugged;
Resigned himself to stand.
The second asked again and then
Took matters into hand.

He squeezed into the little gap
And made himself at home,
Inspiring admiration and
The spur to write this poem.

"Bella Bella"

A one-man show’s a tour de force
That many do avoid
Believing it would not be what
They’d likely have enjoyed.

Yet when performed and written
By one Harvey Fierstein,
Those doubters may discover
It’s the best they’ve ever seen.

His “Bella Bella” channels
Someone all New Yorkers knew –
A female politician
And a fighter through and through.

For Bella Abzug spoke her mind
And all the bureaucrats
Were forced to listen and take note
Of her amazing hats.

Though Harvey doesn’t dress in drag,
With us he does engage
So perfectly that we’re convinced
It’s Bella on the stage.

A Docent Tour

A docent leads a group around
To highlight what’s on view
With information most
Museum-goers never knew.

If he or she’s a good one,
Your attention will be held
And perhaps to more exhibits
You may therefore be compelled.

Though passionate about the job,
Most docents don’t get paid.
Quite often, they’ve retired
From another stock in trade.

We’re lucky for these volunteers
Who happily enthuse
Sharing facts about displays of which
We’ve not the slightest clues.

Karen* and Cubby**

The youngest Mouseketeers, they were
The ones who sang goodbye.
If you watched “Mickey Mouse Club,”
You’d remember if you try.

Her long blond curls and winsome smile
Had cross-the-board appeal
And pairing them together
Really seemed to seal the deal.

Though Cubby lives, I just found out
That Karen’s, sadly, gone,
So “now it’s time to say goodbye;”
Her memory lives on.

*Karen Pendleton (8/1/46 – 10/6/19)
**Cubby O’Brien (7/14/46 -)

The Mansions of Rhode Island

Tour the mansions of Rhode Island
(And it doesn’t matter which)
And discover just how different
Life can be if you are rich.

Want to throw a little party?
Ask 400 of your friends
While your servants prep and coddle
For the fun that never ends.

Have some outfits made in Paris;
Order in the best champagne.
Bathe in water from the ocean.
(Watch the salt go down the drain!)

Walk on floors laid in mosaics;
Dance ‘neath crystal chandeliers.
Stroll through gardens planted solely
To outdo those of your peers.

Never mind the lowly rabble
Who are born to work and serve
For the really wealthy do believe
They get what they deserve.

A Weekend Away

Away for a weekend with friends
We drove many miles in the rain,
But the time we spend never depends 
On the weather, hotel or terrain.

For when friendship is solid and strong,
There's an easy and certain connection 
And though bumps in the road may belong,
They're smoothed over by laughs and affection.

So we settled at last in our suite,
Made some plans, took a walk for some food
And, relaxing, with dinner to eat,
With good feelings we all were imbued.

Leave-taking

We’d said goodbye, were at the door
When my favorite little boy
Came running with just one last hug,
The kind I most enjoy.

“You can’t leave, Nana. I won’t let you!”
Clinging to me, tight.
I’m sure he knew I couldn’t stay
But hoped with all his might.

Such moments cannot be compared
With anything I know
Especially since they don’t last
As children age and grow.

Yet as we clung together,
Knowing we would have to part,
I smiled inside, convinced I’d etched
A place inside his heart.

Jelly Apples Then and Now

The jelly apples of my youth
Had hard red coatings and, in truth,
Each time you bit one, you'd expect
Some dental damage you'd inflect.

Yet that exquisite crackling crunch
Which caused your jaws to clench and scrunch
Was worth a cavity or chip
Or, worse, a tooth that lost its grip.

The jelly apples of today
Are made in quite a different way,
With nuts to get stuck in your teeth 
And soft, red gooey coats beneath.

I do enjoy them as a treat
When craving something moist and sweet
But really, they cannot compare
To those that filled the dentist's chair!

The Skin I'm In

The skin I’m in has gotten thin
Or more so than it’s ever been.
It now contains such glaring veins
I wonder what, beneath, remains.

A little scratch will soon dispatch
A tiny bit of blood to catch
Which won’t impede but will succeed
In adding worry I don’t need.

Another page regarding age
Reminds me that I’m at the stage
When more and more, what lies in store
Is not the me I was before.

The Rhyming Gene

While cleaning a closet, I came across
An envelope which held
Report cards from first grade on up,
The proof that I’d excelled.

Yet stuck between the cards I found
A little penciled note
In writing that I recognized
And this is what she wrote:

“Your closet needs cleaning, I’m sure you can tell
So talk on the phone less time to your Ell.*
Throw out the old things, cards, letters, shoes, too.
I’m sure there are some things you’ll keep – a few.
The rest of your room is as neat as a pin.
Clean out your closet – then the world can look in.”

This message from my mom, a poem

Reminded me today
That rhyming surely came to me
Within my DNA.

*Elliot, my high school boyfriend

Out with the Old

I once got a piece of advice
And you’d think that one time would suffice
But I didn’t take heed,
Not that I disagreed,
And so now I am paying the price.

The suggestion was each time you buy
Something new, with this rule you comply –
You must then give away,
Without doubt or delay,
Something old (or passé, they’d imply).

If I just could obey that command
Then I finally would understand
That my closets could be
No reflection of me
But like those Marie Kondo* had planned.

*the Japanese Queen of decluttering

The Heat of the Moment

It was chilly in the country
So we had to use the heat
To warm up our little weekend place,
Our Pocono retreat.

Electric heat’s expensive
So we only turn it on
When we’re in the house, but it stays off
Most often when we’re gone.

In wintertime, we set it low
Just so the pipes don’t freeze
Even though our bill increases
By a number of degrees.

Now, we’ve had the house for many years
And follow some routines
But at times it seems that aging
Or distraction intervenes.

So today, the first time ever,
Spoiling many lucky streaks,
We forgot to turn the heat off
And we won’t be back for weeks.

With some luck, we’ll reach a neighbor
Or a friend of ours who’ll take
Time to fix the situation
Or we’ll pay for our mistake.

Oktoberfest

Stopped at an Oktoberfest
Just to catch the scene -
Big steins of beer, a German band,
Appropriate cuisine.

Some lederhosen wearers
Did compete at beanbag toss,
Then swigged their pilsners cheerfully
With every win or loss.

The port-a-potties waited
With a needed job to fill,
For after every jumbo stein,
I guess you know the drill.

We only stayed a while
On this bright day in Oktober
For I think it would be much more fun
To patrons not quite sober.

In Lavender

For this term they're in lavender,
Though last year it was pink.
The little ballerinas 
Grow up quicker than you'd think.

They line up in their leotards
With energy to burn
And follow their instructor 
As they run and leap and turn.

Each week they gather in a group,
Too young for mean girl cliques
But likely that will change 
When personalities won't mix.

For now, though, they're a happy bunch,
So innocent and sweet,
And watching them cavort
In ballet slippers is a treat.

On Dismal Days

On dismal days, don't dress for gloom;
Inject some joy into the room.
Reject a shirt of somber hue
In favor of a brilliant blue

Or neon green or red or pink
To lift the spirits in a blink,
For it's a shame to cede the day
And, too, your mood, to shades of gray.

You might not think a simple top
In colors meant to dance and pop
Would have the power to reverse
The grayness hanging like a curse 

But my advice is, don't deny it
'Til, at least, you say you'll try it.

Into the Lions' Den

A visitor to the Bronx Zoo
Did something she wanted to do,
Which was climb in the space
Where the lions do pace –
Why she did so I haven’t a clue.

One lion got up and he stared;
For a visit, he wasn’t prepared.
The woman then danced
While the lion advanced
Just a bit, but she didn’t look scared.

The incident, drawing much flack,
Didn’t end in a lion attack,
For this visiting meat
In the end, did retreat,
Thus depriving the cat of a snack.

All was naturally filmed on a phone
And the footage to all has been shown.
Still, her hopping the fence,
Though with no consequence,
Is an act that the zoo can’t condone.

Making Ice

When I need ice, I fill the trays
With water, by myself,
And place them in the freezer
On the left side of the shelf.

When frozen, I remove the cubes
And fill a Ziploc bag
So they will be there waiting
When a drink I want to snag.

I do not need an automatic
Feature on the fridge
To make my ice, improving life
By just a little smidge.

Some modern day conveniences
Are things we just don’t need
But so many think from drudgery
Such short-cuts keep us freed.