A big fat groundhog crossed the road,
While waddling, quite fast.
I watched him in surprise
At so much speed as he ran past.
Perhaps he found me threatening
Although I never knew
A person who’d attempted
To cook up some groundhog stew.
Still, every creature’s instincts
Will kick in when danger’s nigh
And even big fat groundhogs
Waddle quickly to get by.
The birds are a’twitter;
The leaves are a’flutter.
Some early moths flitter
And I am in utter
Contentment while sitting,
Absorbing the quiet,
Which seems only fitting
Since noise is my diet.
I live in the city
With traffic and sirens.
Some think it’s a pity
To have those environs,
Yet mostly I love it -
The hustle and bustle.
I hover above it,
Ignoring the tussle.
Though once in a while,
The country will beckon
And I’ll change my style
To rural, I reckon…
Until I start craving
That urban alluring.
Then I’ll go back, braving
That citified roaring.
A holiday weekend
With nothing
but rain
Gives so
many a solid
Excuse to
complain.
All those
outdoor events
At a park or
a beach
Will,
because of the weather,
Be way out
of reach.
Those who
rented a cottage
Or booked a
hotel
Might be
bummed that their plans
Won’t be
going so well.
Yes, the
roads may be flooded
And temps
much too cool
To show off
your new bathing suit
Down by the
pool
Yet, there’s
tennis to watch
Or there’s
reading a book
And, aside
from the grill,
There are
more ways to cook.
Still, it is
disappointing
When plans
that you’ve made
Have to
change because Nature
Rained on
your parade.
To celebrate a birthday
Some want
candles and a cake.
To others, a
display like that
Would be a
big mistake.
There are
people who will travel
To a far-off
special place
For a
festive celebration
That a
birthday can embrace.
Others want
a quiet dinner
In a
restaurant they know,
Maybe
followed by an evening
At a concert
or a show.
Many more
would be quite happy
With an
in-home favorite meal
And a T.V.
show or movie,
Birthdays
being no big deal.
We all
choose our ways of marking
One year’s
march around the sun,
For each birthday’s
a reminder
A new older
year’s begun.
Sometimes nothing’s going on
And other times you’re busy.
Which is better? Being bored
Or stuck inside a tizzy?
That depends on whom you ask,
For some prefer relaxing
To any type of plan which may
Be, in the slightest, taxing.
A happy medium would work,
Though life will rarely let us
Have just enough to do
So that exhaustion will not get us.
I take classes in quilting on Zoom;
Quite a
challenge, you’d likely assume,
But we all
seem to know
How to
basically sew,
Which allows
us to grow and to bloom.
Before
Covid, we met face to face
At a
spacious spread-out downtown space.
Now we’re
all on a screen
With a
weekly routine,
Each ensconced
in her very own place.
Our instructor,
who’s really the best,
Runs the
class from her home way out west.
Several others
have moved
But technology’s
proved
That our
questions are all still addressed.
So we sit
and we stitch and we share,
Holding projects
so we can compare
What we’ve
finished, with pride;
The computer
will hide
My mistakes,
for which I have a flair.
He used to race 100 miles
And tell us
all about it.
We always
saw him running,
So we had no
cause to doubt it.
The races
that I entered then
Were 6.2 in
miles
And mostly
run in Central Park;
We differed
in our styles.
I still get
out and walk each day,
My racing
days behind me,
And early
morning, by the river,
That is
where you’ll find me.
Yet he sits
mostly on a bench,
His walker
at the ready,
The river
feeling far away;
His gait is
too unsteady.
I used to
marvel at the thought
Of hundred
mile races,
But seeing
where we’re both at now,
I’d not be
trading places.
