Cleaning the Windows

With paper towels and a spray,

I cleaned the window panes today.

It’s not a chore I like, but hey –

It’s what you’ve gotta do.

 

I wiped the window sills, as well,

Though, at a glance, you couldn’t tell,

But those who in Manhattan dwell

Know schmutz likes to accrue.

 

Of course, once cleaning had begun,

I dusted all the frames, each one

Just waiting ‘til they all were done

And propped back up to view.

 

Assorted bowls and vases, plus

Some tchotchkes that belong to us

Required, too, a little fuss

So they would look brand-new.

 

At last, my windows, nice and clear,

Caused my apartment to appear

Like it’s all good until next year

When guilt will bubble through.

How Much Time

We cannot know for sure

How much time we have left

And there isn’t a cure

For the loved ones, bereft.

 

Death may sometimes arrive

Just the way you’d expect,

But for those who survive,

There’s a real disconnect

 

From the world that they knew

Where their loved one drew breath

To what they can’t get through,

Which is deal with a death.

 

It has always been so

And it always will be.

When the time comes to go,

There’s no bargain or plea

 

That can change the harsh fact

Of a person’s demise

Nor step in to distract

From what hope now denies.

U-Turn from Obscene

If his name’s not on the building,

No one gets to go inside,

For to have someone else honored,

Causes damage to his pride.

 

He attempts to rule the country

Like a bully from the block

And the fact that some enable him

Leaves normal folk in shock.

 

I am tired of his tweeting

And I’m sick of all his lies.

He’ll be listed in the books as one

Most voters did despise.

 

But to end this on an upbeat note,

A U-turn from obscene,

It’s a special day for Henry,

As my grandson turns 13!

A Class on Zoom

A class on Zoom, as you’d assume,

Attracts its share of crazies,

But in your room, no need to fume;

Just rearrange your daisies

 

Or fill a grid your camera hid,

Completing Sunday’s puzzle,

If the teacher did not place a lid

On some who need a muzzle.

 

With mic sound shut, if every nut

Must jabber with a story,

You tune out, but, your tsk and tut

Won’t dampen someone’s glory.

 

The time will pass and soon your class

Will come to its conclusion

And then, en masse, you leave; the brass

Believing the illusion.

To See a Grandchild Shine

To watch and see a grandchild shine

In a performance is to feel

Like shouting, “Yes, that one is mine!”

Of course his talents do appeal.

 

It’s hard to be objective, but

We want our grandkids to do well.

Still, if they aren’t great, my gut

Would let me know. (Though, would I tell?)

 

Not everybody who performs

In sports or some way on the stage

Will rise up way about the norms

And with the audience engage

 

Except within subjective eyes,

Which always think that they’re the best.

The future, though, holds the surprise

Of who will leave the world impressed.

Canvas Booths

The outdoor art fair has displays

In canvas booths that zip.

When setting up for two days straight,

I guess it saves a trip.

 

I don’t know what security

Is there for overnight,

Though thieves could slice the canvas,

Even if it’s zippered tight.

 

The booths provide protection more

For rain-related times,

The artists likely worried

About damage more than crimes.

 

Today, the second of the fair,

Was raining from the start.

I walked past many zipped-up booths

And couldn’t see much art.

 

Predictions were for sunny weather

In the afternoon.

I'm sure for all the artists

Sunshine couldn’t come too soon.

 

I’m sure some picked up all their work

And didn’t stick around,

While others waited, hoping that

Their business might rebound.

Texts Will Fly

On holidays, the texts will fly;

Good wishes will begin.

There is no need to wonder why;

That’s how it’s always been

At least since texting was a thing;

Before that, cards were sent.

The mailman was the one to bring

Somebody’s good intent.

It’s strange it takes a holiday 

For people to connect,

But that’s become the common way

And what you would expect.

Yet still, it’s nice to hear that ding

And see upon the screen

A greeting that your phone does bring

From one you’ve hardly seen.