I do not have a garden
And my thumb is far from green.
The plants I’ve managed not to kill
Are few and far between.
But when I’m at my country house,
Where things grow out of whack,
I take my trusty clippers
And I cut the darn things back.
Unwanted weeds and bushes
Get their branches quickly snipped,
Unprepared for the attack by that
With which I am equipped.
The next time I am here, I’ll have to
Do it all again,
But at least I made a little dent
Until I don’t know when.
If your birthday’s in August,
Your horoscope sign
Might turn out to be Leo
And that would be fine.
But that isn’t at all
What this poem is about,
For my LEO at breakfast,
Without any doubt,
Really jazzed up my morning
And if you’ve no clue
What I’m talking about,
I’ll explain it to you.
There’s an acronym here
And the L is for lox,
Which is salmon that’s cured,
Found in most deli stocks.
Now the E is for eggs,
Scrambled just to my taste
And the O is for onions,
Sautéed without haste.
Not all people will like this,
I’m not gonna lie,
But if it’s on the menu,
Please give it a try.
What used to be simple’s
No longer
the case,
With AI and
tech leaving
No human
trace.
A phone call
reverts to
The state of
“On hold,”
The music
appalling,
And not ‘cause
I’m old.
The customer
rep keeps
Repeating each
fact,
But sends
you an email
He failed to
enact.
So after an
hour,
Which soon
becomes two,
You hang up
the phone
And you haven’t
a clue
If he did
what you asked
To provide
what you need
And you have
no idea
Just how you
should proceed.
I miss the
old methods
Of making a
call,
When a
pencil and paper
Recorded it
all.
For years our radio’s been tuned
To 105.9.
The music, for the most part,
With our preference does align.
Jeff Spurgeon is our morning guy
And, with his soothing voice,
He’s just the host we’d choose ourselves
If we had had the choice.
From Know-It-All-New-Yorker
To his daily repartee,
We wouldn’t want to spend our mornings
Any other way.
When QXR announced that Jeff
Would take his final leave,
We must admit to feeling sad,
But know he will receive
The accolades that he deserves
From all his loyal fans,
With hopes that he finds joy
In all his many future plans.
We’ll miss you, Jeff; nobody will
Connect with us so well
For, except when you played opera,*
At your job you did excel!
*just never got into it…
It’s rare to hear a story
That you haven’t heard before,
Especially when memories
Seem locked behind a door.
But yesterday I heard about
A parrot who could talk
And when my dad came home from school,
It would begin to squawk,
“Georgie’s home!” repeatedly.
My aunt, who told the tale,
Said that’s the only name it yelled,
Each school day, without fail.
I don’t recall my father
Ever mentioning this bird.
Perhaps it was a memory
That somehow got deferred.
Yet as my aunt recalled this,
She laughed hard and so did we,
The image of a boyhood George
As clear as it could be.
The heat is overwhelming here,
So we’ve been trapped inside,
Except for walking to the car,
Where cool air does preside.
With time to kill, my husband found
Old movies on TV,
Some Groucho films without his sibs,
Not known to him or me.
We still found him hilarious,
A genius at his craft.
I’d be suspicious of a soul
Who watched and never laughed.
The film that followed had the other
Brothers, which just means
More chances to crack up
In many other crazy scenes.
Though people go to Florida
To loll around a beach,
I’m glad, when weather’s Venus-like,
These films are in our reach.
Today my aunt turns 98
And for her age, she’s doing great,
So we came down to celebrate,
The least that we can do.
We schmoozed a little yesterday
With snacks we picked up on the way
And brought an ice cream treat today
(Since I had craved one, too).
Then on to mah jongg in a place
Where seniors gather, face to face,
To play a game they all embrace
(The rules of which I knew).
Two hours flew by and then back where
Three huge bouquets were waiting there,
Plus cards and phone calls, all to share
Her birthday, right on cue.
Tonight, there’ll be a dinner out;
That’s what a birthday’s all about,
And at that age, there is no doubt
Best wishes sure are due.
