Waiting for the Bus

I waited for the crosstown bus

Forever and a day.

That may be an exaggeration,

But it felt that way.

 

At least three dozen people

Were bemoaning what became

The perfect opportunity

To find someone to blame.

 

To make things worse, a bus was parked

Right near where we’d hop on,

Although the driver, maybe

On a break, was just plain gone.

 

At last a new bus showed and so,

All three doors had a crowd.

The driver opened none of them,

The grumbles getting loud.

 

When finally, he made a move,

The front door opened wide

And access to the other two

Was out and out denied.

 

More kvetching, but we inched our way

And finally could board.

I snagged a seat (not many left),

Which felt like a reward.

 

At least it wasn’t freezing and

I wasn’t running late,

Yet surely, it’s a well-known fact

That no one likes to wait.

In Stride

To take things in stride, 

One must simply decide 

To let nervousness slide

And just chill.

If these rules are applied

And no planets collide,

Then what might be implied

Likely will

Keep one feeling supplied

With the skills to abide

By life’s customs, which guide

People still.

I have never denied

Nor have I ever lied 

About lacking the pride

To fulfill 

Life’s demands while allied

With some Zen bona fide

But I can’t, though I’ve tried,

Learn the drill.

My Kitchen Cabinets

To upgrade a kitchen,

Most people I know

Would hire an expert

And work with a pro.

 

I live in a rental,

Which limits the range

Of the choices I have

If I’m wanting a change.

 

So to spiff up my cabinets,

Boring and plain,

I decided that I’d go

Against the, um, grain.

 

For, instead of cheap plywood

Or particle board,

Some rustic aesthetic

Was what I aimed toward.

 

I found what I needed

And measured and cut.

The kitchen looks better

(At least to me!), but

 

I have to fess up

For it didn’t take much.

Contact paper provided

That cool farmhouse touch!

Parents and Children

Our parents introduce us,

From the moment of our birth,

To their values and we learn from them

What everything is worth.

 

We grow up and observe the ways

They deal with joy or strife

And tuck this knowledge in our minds

For later on in life.

 

In time, we leave the nest behind

And follow our own trail,

Which leads us to a place where

Not all lessons will prevail.

 

We may reject the models that

Are those our parents taught

And sometimes quite the opposite

Will be the ones we’ve sought.

 

Most parents do the best they can,

But it’s a short-term role

And as their children grow, those lives

Are out of their control.

A Birdhouse

A birdhouse hanging from a tree

Has snow piled on its roof.

If there are doubts about the storm,

Well, there’s the real-life proof.

 

Designed with details to appear

So cottage-like and charming,

Its Wedgewood-colored siding

Both familiar and disarming,

 

This mini-homestead’s cuteness is

An unexpected treat.

You wouldn’t look for such a thing

On a Manhattan street.

 

Yet there it is, with bright white door

And next to it, a broom,

Just waiting for a sparrow

To stop by and take up room.

 

Surrounding it, apartments loom;

Pedestrians make haste.

Still, somehow in this neighborhood,

This dwelling’s been embraced.

Chain Mail

When I was a girl,

Every once in a while,

I’d receive in the mail,

Because that was the style,

 

A letter to copy

And send to a name

At the top of a list,

Which in that letter came.

 

When you copied the note,

You’d add your own address

To the list, while deleting

The top one. Success

 

Came when after some days

You’d receive quite a slew

Of the letters, from strangers,

Delivered to you.

 

If you followed the rules,

You would have some good luck.

If you didn’t, without it,

I guess you’d be stuck.

 

The letters back then

Needed stamps and were mailed

And the fun part was knowing

That you had prevailed.

 

Now my granddaughter sent me

A chain in a text:

“Sent to 15 new people

Or what happens next

 

Will be lots of bad luck

For 3 years if you don’t.

If you do, you will get

A new phone.” (No, I won’t.)

 

“You will also be getting

The pet of your dreams.

Everybody will love you!”

I guess that’s how it seems

 

To the youth of today,

But with this kind of chain,

As I wrote to my granddaughter,

I will refrain.

A Sizeable Story

A clairvoyant, who wasn’t too tall,

Got involved in an ill-fated brawl.

His predictions fell flat

And his client, quite fat,

Threw him head-first right into a wall.

 

When he managed to finally stand,

There was somehow a knife in his hand,

Which he used for one thrust;

Then, avoiding a bust,

He escaped, like it somehow was planned.

 

When the cops arrived, someone in charge

Did explain what occurred to the sarge;

So in minutes, the police

Sent an all-points release:

There’s a medium, small, who’s at large.