Dressing Up

I’ve heard that in the early years

Of traveling by air,

The passengers would get dressed up

To get from here to there.

 

That was before my time and yet,

The dress-up rule applied

At many places where that custom’s

Simply up and died.

 

Like going to a Broadway show

Or ceremony for

A graduation where it will

Be noticed what you wore.

 

Religious celebrations, too,

In temple, mosque or church

Might reveal a dress-down pattern

Among many if you search.

 

Still, for certain nice occasions,

I like dressing up so I

Am reminded of decorum,

Which was part of days gone by.

Decapitations

Park Avenue’s had tulips

On the median each year

Since 1980 and their blooms

Announce that spring is here.

 

They brighten up the neighborhood

For all who pass them by,

But a vandal chopped their heads off

And it makes me wonder why.

 

Resentment towards the rich?

Yet volunteers do all the work,

So all who drive or walk there

Can enjoy this city perk.

 

The bulbs, too, are donations

Meant to beautify the street.

Perhaps the lone decapitator

Couldn’t quite defeat

 

The urge to make a statement

With this nasty act of rage.

A doorman saw it happen

And the police he did engage.

 

Alas, the vandal got away

But here’s an upbeat fact:

The blooms are gone but might return;

The bulbs are still intact.

Modeling Clay

Kids today, I have to say,

Are latched onto their screens

And spend more time than I on rhyme,

No matter what their means.

My grandkid’s friend, at school day’s end,

Came over for a while.

They ate and talked but mostly gawked

At sites that did beguile.

The sunny day lured them to play

Out in the grassy yard

‘Til boredom hit, so in a bit,

They played the hungry card.

A little snack, but then a lack

Of things to do set in.

Some board games? No! With spirits low,

The kvetching could begin.

Until my son got the job done,

Producing what he knew

Could save the day, some brand-new clay - 

Wow, something cool to do!

Ideas took hold, they squished and rolled,

Creating works of art,

With smiles of pride that couldn’t hide

What screens cannot impart.

The Way We See Ourselves

Some people think they’re talented

When clearly, they are not.

Yet maybe they are better off,

Believing that they’ve got

 

The kind of skills worth noticing,

Perhaps to lead to fame,

A place where everybody

Everywhere will know their name.

 

Yet others criticize themselves,

Believing that they lack

Whatever talents that might earn

A pat upon the back.

 

No matter what they try to do,

It seems to come out wrong,

So to those more accomplished types,

They never will belong.

 

The truth is often in between,

For how we are perceived

Is often quite the opposite

Of what we have believed.

 

Yet it might be impossible

To burrow deep inside

To change the way we see ourselves,

And most have never tried.

On Earth Day 2026

Happy Earth Day, Mother Earth!

I have to say, for what it’s worth,

That you’ve seemed better in the past;

Things are getting grimmer, fast.

Lack of snow in ski resorts

Has hurt much more than winter sports,

With fire, now, a constant fear,

Especially when winds blow near.

While temperatures that fluctuate 

Cause harm to crops and, as of late,

Between the times of floods and droughts,

Your advocates are having doubts

About sustainability;

Will future generations see

A way to help protect your lands

In ways that modern life demands?

We humans have our work to do

To fix the damage done to you,

But while we can, let’s pledge to try

So Earth Day hopes don’t up and die.

Only to the Point

My windsocks and my whirligigs 

All dance and spin around

And with wind chimes, there would also be

A sweet melodic sound.

The wind’s a great companion

When it’s gentle, with a breeze

That allows these things to happen,

Meant to lift one’s mood and please.

Even when the wind is whipping,

It’s a marvel to behold,

Though perhaps that’s only to the point

When it can be controlled.

Making Sure

The supermarket carries beer,

(I love my IPA’s)

But every time we buy some here,

We hear the same old phrase;

“You need to show us some ID,”

Which doesn’t make much sense

Since, speaking for my spouse and me,

There isn’t much suspense 

In guessing that we’re of an age

That’s legal multiplied

By 3 or almost 4, the stage 

Where we can’t be denied.

Yet still, our licenses come out,

As Pa. law demands,

Although there isn’t any doubt

Each cashier understands 

That our ID’s are far from fake;

It only takes one glance

To know it would be some mistake

To look at us askance.