Enthusiasm in the Air

The runners run, New Yorkers cheer

And all are happy to be here.

Enthusiasm’s in the air;

We all pitch in to do our share.

 

We shout, we clap, we ring our bells

And output from the sidewalk swells

Each time a runner lifts his arms

To seek support from watching swarms.

 

Today, to ratchet up the vibe,

The sun beams down and I’d describe

This autumn weather as ideal

For all who cheer or run to feel.

 

I love this annual event

And from the crowds, it’s evident

That all who gather for this race

Will bask in this, New York’s embrace.

To My Row Z Seatmates

You go to the theater

And pay for your seat.

Perhaps you go often

Or just for a treat.

 

But when Act I begins,

To keep talking is rude,

Being clueless the reason

That I must conclude.

 

I regret my inaction,

Yet I was among

Other audience members

Who each held his tongue.

 

For maybe by saying,

Of course, with a smile,

“Please shut the f*** up!”

It would work for a while.

 

At least of their rudeness

They would be aware,

While likely confirming

They just didn’t care.

Beyond Your Control

Sometimes stuff happens

Beyond your control

And trying to deal with it

Sure takes a toll.

You sacrifice time

And emotional stress, 

While the outcome turns out

To be anyone’s guess.

Bureaucracy stops things

From happening fast 

And often you find out

The die has been cast.

It’s still worth the effort

To spearhead a change,

Despite all the details

You must rearrange.

Still, some situations 

You simply can’t fix,

For all your ideas

Someone’s ready to nix.

Buttinskies

In many a group situation,

A gathering, outing or class,

There’ll be someone who thinks she’s the teacher,

But instead is a pain in the ass.

 

For the guide or instructor is ready

With the knowledge she needs to impart,

Which gets hard when there are interruptions

By that pain showing off she’s so smart.

 

Signing up for a group with a leader

Means you’re joining with hopes you can learn

From that person who’s hired to teach you,

Not buttinskies who speak out of turn.

Every Wrinkle

Time can’t erase

All the lines on your face,

Although Botox, I’m told,

Helps you not look so old.

 

A face lift, as well,

Means that others can’t tell

Your true age, with success,

If they’re making a guess.

 

Every wrinkle reflects

How our body elects

To display each ordeal

That we cannot conceal.

 

So there’s no need to hide

What should bring us some pride,

For we’ve come to that age,

Turning many a page.

 

Still, I wouldn’t quite mind

If I woke up to find

That my sheets, wrinkle-free,

Passed that magic to me.

Hurricane

A hurricane is in the news,

A Category 5,

With winds that challenge trees and homes

To manage to survive.

Yet where I am, the sky is blue

And there’s a gentle breeze,

Enough to knock the leaves down,

But not causing much unease.

Jamaicans had some warning 

And, though many have prepared,

I am sure that people living there,

Or visiting, are scared.

It’s hard to wrap your mind around

Disasters far away,

Yet most of us will face our own

Adversity one day.

My Beleafs

With my trusty broom in hand, I swept 

The leaves piled on the deck

And, noticing the gutters,

I decided, what the heck.

So I dragged a kitchen stool and climbed

And reached in with my hands

To grab what leaves and twigs I could

That ownership demands.

It all looks better than it did,

Which makes me satisfied,

Until tomorrow morning, when 

I take a step outside…

And there will be, I’m sure of it,

Just what you might assume,

A brand-new leafy carpet

Out there waiting for my broom.