A LEO

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.

A Phone Call

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 Jeff Spurgeon

 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…

My Great Grandmother’s Parrot

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.

Watching Groucho

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.

Ninety-Eight

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.

An Acrostic on a Plane

We’re strapped in seats and to our left,

A dad, a mom, 3 tots;

And how much noise did they produce?

You know the answer - lots!

Before we taxi, it’s announced

There’ll be a slight delay.

Mechanics have to come on board,

And so begins our day.

They check us out; we’re good to go,

But traffic in the air 

Means there will be some extra time 

To take off. Don’t despair!

The whole time this is going on,

With pencil in my hand,

I’m working on a Times acrostic,

Just as I had planned.

It really is a tough one;

I’m oblivious to time.

The minutes tick away until 

We’ve left the ground and I’m 

Just finishing the puzzle.

I’m a genius! But what’s best

Is by doing the acrostic,

I was shockingly unstressed.