In the Berkshires

We’re in the Berkshire Mountains

And it’s glorious for fall - 

The foliage and sunny skies

Have heeded Nature’s call.

We’re doing all the tourist stuff -

Museums, gardens, trails,

And strolling through some towns and stores,

Which every trip entails.

Our photos capture some of it -

The beauty and the art,

But the timing is, to me,

What really sets this one apart.

For coming down from what were 

Quite emotional events,

We needed such a getaway,

Since what this represents

Is a celebration of the fact

That everything we’d planned

Worked out beautifully despite the stress

I barely could withstand.

It’s wonderful to have the chance

To sigh with great relief

And reward ourselves with travel,

Even though the visit’s brief.

Making a Broom

At Hancock Shaker Village,

We signed up to make a broom,

A skill the Shakers practiced

And perfected, we’d assume.

Our trusty teachers* guided us

With broomcorn, sticks and thread,

Their patience and their knowledge 

Helping us to get ahead.

The actual construction

Was a challenge, I’ll admit,

But some caught on rather quickly;

We did not, but didn’t quit.

The instructors buoyed our spirits,

Guaranteeing we’d succeed

And when trying something new,

That’s really all that people need.

At the end, we left the workshop,

Both our brooms held up with pride.

Though they’re not the most aesthetic,

We felt happy that we tried,

*Robin and Donna

Renewing a Passport

We have no plans to go abroad

And who knows if we will,

But our passports need renewing

And we thought we knew the drill

 

Though applying now is possible

Online, which sounded great.

The problem was the picture,

Quite a challenge to create.

 

We’d answered all the questions –

Names, addresses and the like

And we’d read about the photos,

With the poses we should strike.

 

So we found a plain white wall and smiled,

Without a toothy grin,

And we took each other’s pictures –

That’s when problems did begin.

 

First, the lighting wasn’t bright enough

Or a head was at a tilt.

We’d repeat with the corrections

As our energy did wilt.

 

When we thought we had it perfect,

One last puzzle had us stumped –

Fitting faces in a circle –

Each attempt kept getting bumped.

 

I am glad to say that finally

Perseverance saved the day

And my husband’s efforts got the nod –

Our photos were okay.

 

Now our forms have been submitted,

Which is wonderful, although

It would really be much better

If we had a place to go.

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.