Let's Pretend

As Mothers’ Day approaches
There are emails on my phone
With gift ideas for Covid days
To throw your mom a bone.

So even if you’re stuck inside
Your love you’d be expressin’
If, on Trip Advisor, you’d book an
Aperitivo lesson.

A Roman local will explain
Just how to make this drink.
She’d need her own ingredients
And glassware, I would think.

Of course, this all is virtual
But she might find it nifty
To pretend that she’s in Italy
And all for $16.50!

Nurses' Day

Today’s the date to thank, in verse,
Each health care hero, i.e. nurse.
Officially, it’s Nurses’ Day;
Let’s send some gratitude their way.

Of course, each night we clap and cheer
For those who’ve chosen this career
But more than that, much more’s their due,
So stepping to the plate’s JetBlue.

100,000 pairs of flights
The airline’s offered, which invites
All health care workers who apply
To have the chance, for free, to fly.

Now that’s a wonderful reward
For something many can’t afford
And whether travel’s north or south ‘tis
Great JetBlue put its money where its mouth is.

Quarantine Routine

My husband and I have a perfect routine
In the stay-at-home days caused by Covid-19.
Our apartment’s not big – bedroom, kitchen and bath
And a living room – 3 and ½. (Do the math.)

We alternate times in the bathroom, of course.
(To do otherwise might just result in divorce.)
The kitchen’s the same – we just smoothly take turns
At the fridge, sink and stove to ensure nothing burns.

For the bulk of the day, we’re in separate rooms
(It’s not true that we talk to each other with Zooms)
But we join to watch Cuomo* and FaceTime the grands
And have dinner – I hope no one misunderstands…

We are happy together to shelter-in-place

But it’s vital to each have some just-for-me space
So we divvy the day to connect and to part –
Like the governor says, we’re tough, loving and smart.

*the governor of New York

Catching a Glimpse

When we check out the room
Of the speakers on Zoom
Our eyes start their job of assessing
For the objects that loom,
Nothing staged, we assume,
Give us hints of what they are possessing.

Every bookcase, so neat!
Offers clues, though discreet,
Of editions that they have been reading
And the artwork we greet
In each private retreat
Makes us think, “Oh, that’s just what I’m needing!”

The celebrities’ digs
For these stay-at-home gigs
May cause envy of spaces resplendent
But the biggest of wigs
Might be living like pigs
When they aren’t on-camera transcendent.

The City that Never Sleeps

I live in “the city that never sleeps”
But now I can attest
To the fact that for the first time
It’s been forced to take a rest.

The restaurants and corner stores
Are shuttered or, at best,
Allowing business to proceed
With hours quite repressed.

The famous subways always ran,
As you have likely guessed,
All day and night so no one’s
Travel had to be suppressed.

But now they’ll disinfect the trains
At City Hall’s request
From 1 – 5 a.m.; all those
Still on will face arrest.

Pandemics put the world on hold;
We’ve seen that manifest
Yet to see my city sleeping
Can’t help making me depressed.

Meandering

I followed paths, meandering
And noting all the joys of spring –
The trees in blossom, bright green grass,
All seen without a pane of glass
Preventing me from such a treat –
The scent of flowers, soft and sweet.

This all took place in early morn
Beyond my walk, for I was torn
With wanting to remain outside
Or following the stay-in guide.
My compromise – some extra time,
Not yet considered as a crime.

The park was empty, so I heard
The chirp and twitter of each bird.
I breathed in deep without my mask,
Nobody taking me to task.
At last, fulfilled, I headed home,
Content enough to write my poem.

Virtual

Here’s a virtual hug
And a virtual kiss.
We’ve never prepared
For affection like this.

A virtual fist bump
Or virtual squeeze
Might prevent us from getting
A nasty disease.

If the radio’s on
Then a virtual dance
Might bring grins to us all
If we give it a chance.

In these virtual days
We can show how we feel
With a far-off embrace
Sparked by love, which is real.