In the pictures, I’m smiling,
My face deeply
tanned,
Surrounded by
friends
In a faraway
land.
A summer in
Israel,
Without any
cares,
To spend
meeting people
At work
picking pears.
We woke at
4:30
And, after a
meal,
We boarded
the trucks;
Oh, that
life did appeal!
So different
from all
That I knew
from before.
To sweat in
the orchards
Felt not
like a chore
But like an
adventure,
To be there
among
Others on
their own journeys,
All carefree
and young.
I drink two cups of coffee
With my
breakfast every day.
It must be
black and steaming hot
And perked
the old-time way.
So I was
pleasantly surprised
To read my
morning drink
May cause my
chances of decline
(That’s
cognitive!) to shrink.
Dementia’s
always frightened me;
It hit my
mom quite young
And
naturally, to worries
Of that nature,
I have clung.
Yet now, at
least, my caffeine fix
Might make a
little dent
In fighting
off dementia,
Though that
wasn’t my intent.
When, oh when, will people learn
To not
create such hype
That might
make someone crash and burn
With reason,
then, to gripe?
At the
Olympics, all the eyes
Were focused
to behold
The skaters
meant to grab the prize
Which,
naturally, was gold.
The ice
dance leaders did their best,
Their program
filled with magic.
The judges,
though, were more impressed
With others,
not quite tragic
Yet
disappointing, since the world
Expected
gold success.
The way they
glided, jumped and twirled
Meant silver
caused distress.
The
competition for the men
Was even
worse than that,
For all the
hype exploded when
The leader’s
skate fell flat.
The pressure
facing athletes there
Must mess
with all their heads.
What they
don’t need is extra glare
To rip their
nerves to shreds.
The old silphium plant,
Found in
ancient Cyrene,
Had some
qualities Google
Brought up
on my screen.
Seems its
seed pod was used
To increase
certain pleasures
And was
thereby considered
Among Nature’s
treasures.
Now this
seed pod was shaped
Like a
Valentine heart
And that may
be how
Valentine’s
Day got its start.
Or perhaps
that’s a tale
Or an
out-and-out lie,
Manufactured
and shown
By some
sneaky A.I.
But no
matter the origin,
Hope your
heart’s full,
Regardless
of if
You believe
in this bull.
Think of your life
Before Amazon came.
At gift-giving time,
You had no one to blame
If the present you purchased
For a certain date
Wasn’t mailed out in time
And arrived much too late.
It was all on your shoulders -
The shopping, the wrapping;
Too bad if the calendar
Caught you out napping.
Now you click on the site
And you order away
With your gift, in a day or two,
Well on its way.
Impersonal? Yes,
But it gets to the door
Without much of the hassle
You dealt with before.
An occasional gift
Sent in old-fashioned style
Makes me marvel that someone
Went that extra mile.
My husband, who wanted a change
On his
phone, thought that he would arrange
For a
different Van Gogh
Since, as
screen savers go,
Such a
choice isn’t really that strange.
So he
searched for some art to replace
What he had
and to fill up that space
And what
came into view
Was so
lovely, he knew
It was
something that he could embrace.
When he
showed it to me and our son,
Right away
certain doubts had begun,
For the
question was raised
After one
real quick gaze*
If the work
was one Van Gogh had done.
The Museum
(Van Gogh) did reply
To my
husband’s request, with a sigh.
What you’ve
sent us, alas,
No
inspection would pass
For it isn’t
Van Gogh, but A.I.
*by my son –
I was as clueless as my husband!
My brother and I, reminiscing,
Realized we’ve
an impossible task,
For as we’ve
gotten older, with facts that we lack,
There is
nobody left we can ask…
Like the age
that our grandparents lived to
Or the
circumstance when each one passed.
We each had
our thoughts but they didn’t line up,
From the mem’ries
we both have amassed.
There are
records and photos and treasures
Which attest
to important events,
But the
questions which no one can answer
Will forever
be kept in suspense.
