On a Wet Country Road

I’d hoped some salamanders
Would be crawling on the road,
For a downpour in the country
Makes them exit their abode.

But I haven’t seen them lately
And I looked with every tread.
What I noticed, though, were lots and lots
Of slimy slugs instead.

Like the worms that they resemble
They enjoy the ground when wet
And emerge from ‘neath the soil
With each chance that they may get.

In my youth, a salamander
I would lift up by the tail
But there’s not the same attraction
To this skeevy shell-less snail.

Emergency Broadcast

The music interrupted,
We all listened for the why.
An announcer gave a warning
That a thunderstorm was nigh.

He was very time-specific
For the counties that he named
And I wonder if the weather
Will be scary as he claimed.

On the back porch I am sitting,
Gazing upwards at the sky
Where I must admit a big black cloud
Is waiting there, on high.

But there's still a bit of sunshine
So it's possible we'll skirt
Such a downpour that deserves 
Such an emergency alert.

Forty minutes are remaining
If the broadcasters are wise
And if nothing comes to pass, it won't be
Much of a surprise.

Waiting for the Bus

While waiting for the bus, a woman
Started to converse.
She sensed I wasn't in the mood
But then, what made it worse

Was when she mentioned that she came
From having radiation.
I couldn't just ignore her, having
That as information.

We both wore baseball caps, but then
She pulled hers off to show
Me that the little hair upon her head
Had started, now, to grow.

Our conversation on the bus
Touched down on this and that - 
The neighborhood, the weather, food;
We had a pleasant chat.

A tidbit we discovered was
Our ages were the same.
Her stop came first - we said goodbye
With no exchange of name.

Dental Appointment

I can’t avoid the dentist
Though I really wish I could
‘Cause once I’m in that chair I know
He’s up to nothing good.

Of course, it’s for my benefit
But man, it’s so unpleasant
That being told I didn’t have to go
Would be a present.

The poking and the prodding,
The drill with all its noise
Add up to what I’m sure that
Really nobody enjoys.

I even hate that object
Placed to suck up all the drool.
He calls it “Mr. Thirsty”
But that doesn’t make it cool.

The only plus that I can see
Is, when my visit’s done,
At least 6 months will pass before
There’ll be another one.

Denim

Sure, I own a denim jacket
And, of course, a bunch of jeans.
All my closets have held denim
Since the time I hit my teens.

Back in high school and in college
There was little else to wear;
Maybe corduroy or khaki'd
Show up on my derriere.

Though my wardrobe’s now more varied
(There’s no denim skirt or vest),
Jeans are still among the choices
Every day when I get dressed.

So I owe a debt to Davis*
And his partner, Levi Strauss,
For providing me with bottoms
I can match with top or blouse.

*Jacob W. Davis

Too Much To Do

When there’s too much to do
It’s so easy to rue
Your decision on what to do first,
For when something’s begun
And you want that work done
There’s no way you can have that reversed.

It’s a shame to thus fret,
Even worse to regret
If you’ve checked something off on your list,
‘Cause for each finished chore
There will always be more
And a few that you probably missed.

Finding Your WAZE

Hearing raves from several friends
We thought that we would try it.
It's just a free app on the phone - 
We didn't have to buy it.

It's GPS but up-to-date
So if you let it guide you,
You'll feel as if you have a genie
Sitting right beside you.

Avoiding all the traffic jams
You get to where you're going
In much less time than if you didn't
Have this way of knowing.

WAZE is what this app is called
And I forgot one perk - 
They let you know exactly where
The policemen like to lurk!