The sun feels good;
It warms my skin
And gets me ready
To begin
To write some lines
Of rhyming verse.
I’m tired, but
It could be worse.
I’m at the age
When things slow down.
My hair is white;
It once was brown.
The years have flown
And my career
Is over now,
But I’m still here.
I’m lucky that
I’m not alone.
I see some loved ones
Or we phone.
My waning phase
I know’s begun,
Yet I’m at peace
Out in the sun.
On the bus we heard a thwack;
The driver
kept on going.
I couldn’t
really see out back,
But soon,
the bus was slowing.
The driver
stopped and went to check.
A vehicle,
parked double,
Had had his
mirror hit the deck;
Our ride
could be in trouble.
One woman
left the bus and yet,
The rest of
us just waited.
No one began
to moan or fret,
Our outcome
not debated.
A minute
passed and he returned
And shrugged,
“That car skedaddled.”
If there’s a
lesson to be learned:
New Yorkers
don’t get rattled.
Today’s my sister’s birthday.
We are 16
years apart
And very
different, even if
We’d had a
matching start.
There are 2
brothers in between;
Our family had
been 5
For 10 years
plus, before my sister
Even was alive.
And yet her
smile gives her away –
It’s
something we all share
And when we
get together
There is laughter
in the air.
Our tastes
in many things don’t mesh –
In music,
travel, food
And how we
look – my hair’s gone white;
She’s blond
and she’s tattooed.
She loves
the heat and I do not;
We live in
different climes.
She’s quite
the chef and I don’t cook;
I spend my
time on rhymes.
So on her
birthday, I reflect
On traits we
each can claim,
Though we both
began our lives by sharing
Parents and
a name.
A big fat groundhog crossed the road,
While waddling, quite fast.
I watched him in surprise
At so much speed as he ran past.
Perhaps he found me threatening
Although I never knew
A person who’d attempted
To cook up some groundhog stew.
Still, every creature’s instincts
Will kick in when danger’s nigh
And even big fat groundhogs
Waddle quickly to get by.
The birds are a’twitter;
The leaves are a’flutter.
Some early moths flitter
And I am in utter
Contentment while sitting,
Absorbing the quiet,
Which seems only fitting
Since noise is my diet.
I live in the city
With traffic and sirens.
Some think it’s a pity
To have those environs,
Yet mostly I love it -
The hustle and bustle.
I hover above it,
Ignoring the tussle.
Though once in a while,
The country will beckon
And I’ll change my style
To rural, I reckon…
Until I start craving
That urban alluring.
Then I’ll go back, braving
That citified roaring.
A holiday weekend
With nothing
but rain
Gives so
many a solid
Excuse to
complain.
All those
outdoor events
At a park or
a beach
Will,
because of the weather,
Be way out
of reach.
Those who
rented a cottage
Or booked a
hotel
Might be
bummed that their plans
Won’t be
going so well.
Yes, the
roads may be flooded
And temps
much too cool
To show off
your new bathing suit
Down by the
pool
Yet, there’s
tennis to watch
Or there’s
reading a book
And, aside
from the grill,
There are
more ways to cook.
Still, it is
disappointing
When plans
that you’ve made
Have to
change because Nature
Rained on
your parade.
To celebrate a birthday
Some want
candles and a cake.
To others, a
display like that
Would be a
big mistake.
There are
people who will travel
To a far-off
special place
For a
festive celebration
That a
birthday can embrace.
Others want
a quiet dinner
In a
restaurant they know,
Maybe
followed by an evening
At a concert
or a show.
Many more
would be quite happy
With an
in-home favorite meal
And a T.V.
show or movie,
Birthdays
being no big deal.
We all
choose our ways of marking
One year’s
march around the sun,
For each birthday’s
a reminder
A new older
year’s begun.
