Construction on the road ahead
Or weather
causing grief –
To get where
you are going,
More and
more, is a relief.
When
traveling, you cannot count
On missing
every glitch,
For every
type of hindrance waits
And you can’t
plan on which
Will be the
one to hold you up
And make
your trip run late.
There are no
guarantees despite
A smooth start
out the gate.
So when “Expect
delays” signs flash,
With alternates
advised,
You might be
ticked, but really,
You should
never be surprised.
A house with stairs encourages
The residents or guests
To exercise a little
As the layout thus suggests.
The up and down momentum
Never registers a thought
As family members make their way
To rooms that they have sought.
But often people, as they age,
Have trouble with the stairs.
No longer can they race on up
Or they’ll trip unawares.
A move may be in order
To a nice one-level space
Where there isn’t any staircase,
Letting people age in place.
Though the stairs present no challenge
In my current fitness state,
Many others that I know will find
This hindrance out too late.
Sometimes it’s better to open your mouth
And other times, maybe it’s not.
Deciding between them is tricky, but still,
They’re the only two choices you’ve got.
If speaking up helps you feel better, I think
You should go right ahead; trust your gut.
Though you may be advised, “Keep your thoughts to yourself,”
You may want to do anything but.
I might agonize much about stating my case,
But I rarely regret when I do,
For to harbor a feeling that needs a release
Means you’ll not have the chance to go, “Phew!”
The trees here are starting to change,
Which, since it is fall, isn’t strange.
Some are orange, some red
Or bright yellow instead,
A new wardrobe that trees rearrange.
To me, it’s a magical time;
For being outdoors, it is prime.
To take walks, I’m inspired,
Though a jacket’s required,
At least in this northeastern clime.
There is ice cream that’s pumpkin, as well
As the apples and gourds orchards sell.
Oh, I wish it could stay
Just like this every day -
I love autumn! (In case you can’t tell.)
For a certain Jewish holiday,
A sukkah is erected,
An outdoor booth whose shelter
Keeps inhabitants protected.
Religious people take their meals
And socialize and sleep
In this temporary structure,
So traditions they can keep.
Each year, a sukkah somehow
In my neighborhood appears
By the efforts of a local group
Of Jewish volunteers.
It’s very bare-bones, just enough
To signal its intent
And those of the religion know
Exactly what is meant.
The sukkah stays there for a week;
Its visitors are few,
But yesterday I passed it
And I noticed something new.
An unhoused man was stretched out,
Like the sukkah was his home,
A different way to use it,
But just perfect for a poem.
In the seventeenth century,
The playwright
Moliere
Wrote a
satire that I saw today,
With the
brilliant adapting
Bill Irwin
can bring
In his very
hilarious way.
What struck
me the most,
Dazzling
acting aside,
Was how
current and fresh were the themes,
For though
centuries passed
Since the
play was conceived,
People fall
for the very same schemes.
There is
love, there is greed,
There are
scams and the fear
Of both
dying and being perceived
As a fool or
a clown
Or a windbag
or prig,
Plus the
need to somehow be believed.
As the
audience laughed
And the
cast, tongue in cheek,
Played their
humorous parts with delight,
I was
grateful to witness
The words
come alive
That on
stage, long ago, first took flight.
If I go to see a concert,
I want music that I like,
So what I expect to hear
From a performer with a mic
Is a new or old song, maybe with
Some background to be shared
On the way the lyrics came about,
In case somebody cared.
What I don’t want to experience
Is politics on stage,
Despite the fact the audience
Might want to so engage.
A show with an agenda
Should be advertised that way,
So ticket buyers are prepared
For what the stars will say.
Though some venues might be fitting
For performers speaking out,
At a music concert, that’s not what
The evening is about.
