Nifty

My mind is filled with thinking.

My belly’s filled with food.

My body may be shrinking

But today I will not brood.

 

I’m sitting where it’s shady

With the river at my feet,

Just a New York City lady

With no deadlines I must meet.

 

A fireboat goes zipping,

Leaving foam within its wake.

The joggers’ sweat is dripping;

Running now is a mistake.

 

I come to my conclusions

When I’m calm and have the time,

Giving in to the illusions

They will make a nifty rhyme.

Useless Emotions

I took a course to manage stress

When I began to teach,

A goal which seemed impossible

And which I’ve yet to reach.

 

Yet there was just one thing I learned

Which makes a lot of sense –

Regret and worry only serve

To hurt, at our expense.

 

For worry ratchets up the nerves,

Obscuring other needs

While regret picks at a healing wound

Until it stings and bleeds.

 

Those two emotions keep us stuck

In limbo and in pain

Though by letting go, it’s obvious

There’s so much we would gain.

Gypsy No More

What we once called a gypsy moth

Will get another name;

In caterpillar form, as well,

Its fate will be the same.

 

For “gypsy” is derogatory

And the name offends.

Political correctness means

That what is hurtful ends.

 

Old habits don’t die easy deaths

So many still will claim

That gypsy moths are being drawn

Like you-know-whats to flame.

Hexagons

The walkway’s paved with hexagons

For visual appeal.

From smoother paths, there’s not a difference

I can really feel.

 

But over time, all roads will need

Appropriate repair

Since cracks and dips will form

As a result of all that wear.

 

Some hexagons are loosening

And others lie askew.

I wonder what the ones in charge

Will someday choose to do.

 

Replacing such a promenade

Requires time and skill.

My guess is there’ll be one flat path

With a much smaller bill.

By the River

The scent of marijuana wafts

Right by me on the air.

I do not see the smoker and

I really do not care.

 

A motorboat is bouncing

On the river; it its wake

Two jet ski riders race on by,

Like winning is at stake.

 

The ferries pick up passengers,

Discharge the ones on board.

Some swallows swoop past people’s heads

But mostly, they’re ignored.

 

As runners jog and cycles roll

And exercisers walk,

I sit and watch the human stream

That flows here in New Yawk.

 

The city’s lost some sizzle

And may not regain its glow,

But when I sit by the river,

It’s the city that I know.

Brand-New Tank

 The fish is in a brand-new tank 

With lots of room for moving

And now that he is settled in,

He can get down to grooving.

A tail swish here, a fin flip there;

It’s back and forth for hours 

Or hovering in place just like

A hummingbird in flowers.

It’s nice to have a bigger space 

For swimming and residing.

Now all this fish is missing

Is a buddy while he’s gliding.

A'Musing

At 6 a.m. this morning’s sun

Was huge and orange-red,

Without a hint of what the day

Would be like hours ahead.

 

For now the sky is full of clouds

With not a speck of blue.

That orange orb is hidden

And they say a storm's a’brew.

 

At least there is a little breeze

So I can sit until

The raindrops head my way; by then

I will have had my fill.