Orange-Leaved Trees

Oh, when I see an orange tree,

(I’m talkin’ ‘bout the leaves),

It brings a dose of joy to me

That not much else achieves.

Combined with yellow trees and reds,

The offerings of fall,

That happy feeling quickly spreads 

And I am in their thrall

Until the season fades away

Or I’m not in a place

Where I can see them every day,

Such beauty to embrace.

I know that others will defend

Their willows or their palms

And they are lovely, I’ll contend,

But I have zero qualms 

Declaring maples, gums and beech,

Whose oranges just glow,

As those which do their best to teach

The lessons they bestow.

A Pigeon Poem

Toss a smidgen to a pigeon;

He’ll proceed to pit-a-pat

On skinny feet to find the treat

Wherever it is hiding at.

 

Pigeon chums may join, for crumbs

Attract those finely feathered friends

And as they peck, each glossy neck

Glows purplish as it descends.

 

A sudden noise disturbs the poise

Of pigeons packed into a group.

As if on cue, they’ll rise and do

What they know best, which is to swoop.

 

A circled flight, though quite a sight,

Last only for the slightest beat,

For once they land, they understand

There are more smidgens left to eat.

My Old Thesaurus

My old thesaurus split in two,

A “treasure house” when it was new.

That’s what it means in Latin, too;

I’ve used it many years.

 

I thought it was from school, but no.

It’s dated 1990, so

I guess I’d hoped my words would flow

If I were switching gears.

 

When writing poems, it’s at my side,

For synonyms, it does provide.

Yet, lately, it can’t be denied,

To the phone my searching steers.

 

The split’s on page 170 –

From “gentleman” to “give,” which, see,

Is on the next page; you’d agree

That, like most of your peers,

 

It’s easier to use the phone,

Which everybody seems to own.

Thesauruses that we have known

Are retro souvenirs.

River Gazing

I do not swim or water ski

And boating’s also not for me,

Including kayak or canoe

Or rowboat, just to name a few.

 

Yet watching water from the land,

It might be hard to understand,

Is soothing like a special balm

Which makes me feel relaxed and calm.

 

I like the way the river ripples

As the sunlight gently stipples,

Picking up the waves of white

That chase each other with delight.

 

I never need to dunk one toe

To love the river’s ebb and flow.

A swimmer I will never be

But river gazing’s fine for me.

When Out-of-Towners Visit

When out-of-towners visit,

You should offer them a taste

Of the city or the neighborhood

You’ve chosen and embraced.

 

A walk along the river,

A museum or a park

Or most anyplace that you enjoy,

To light a little spark.

 

For a home base seen through local eyes

Conveys the pleasure felt

And allows some misconceptions

(It they’re negative) to melt.

 

It’s delightful when, with visitors,

You get to roam and share

Certain places filled with magic,

Which is why you’re living there.

The Post-Event Dinner

At the post-bar mitzvah dinner,

At a table with my son,

Husband, daughter, sibs and spouses,

Tales from memories were spun.

There were certain disagreements 

‘Bout the way that things occurred,

But we laughed at all the tellings, 

Every version getting heard.

When the meal was nearly over,

We were joined, and what a joy!

By the star attraction of the day -

The proud bar mitzvah boy.

(By the way, he’s still a boy to me,

Though passing me in height.

I know he’s technically a man,

But nanas have that right.)

He joined in our camaraderie,

Each anecdote a peek

At the younger selves of relatives

He’d never thought to seek.

Some logic puzzles followed 

And his sister joined the crowd,

Intrigued by all the laughter

And where cursing was allowed.

A perfect ending to a day

Of magic, unsurpassed -

A circle joining ancient rites,

The future and the past.

Henry’s Big Day

The family was gathered

To be there and show support,

And now it’s almost over

So I’ll turn in my report.

To watch a child you’ve known since birth 

Take center stage and shine 

Is more than one can hope for,

Yet this grandson’s really mine.

Though he was nervous (so he claimed),

There was no way to tell,

For he handled every aspect of

The services so well.

His readings, most in Hebrew,

Were delivered loud and strong,

His confidence apparent

When his voice was raised in song.

And then his speech! Amazing!

Filled with thoughts reflective of

The expansive mind and sense of humor

Everyone must love.

Emotions bubbled up inside 

In ways I can’t convey,

But I’m oh, so grateful I was part

Of Henry’s special day.