Winter Walk

Floating in the river, there are
Chunks and bits of ice,
Lazily meandering,
Their journey imprecise.

The water’s gray, the sky is blue;
A smokestack bellows white.
An early morning winter walk
Such eyeings do invite.

The promenade belongs to me;
Manhattan’s yet to stir.
The neighborhood is mine alone;
The pigeons would concur.

Bound and Unbound

I’m sure you’ve never heard of her –
Her name was Judith Scott.
The cards were stacked against her
So she didn’t have a shot.

Both Down’s and deafness were her lot;
Her twin was not affected.
An institution was her home
Where nothing was expected.

When she was in her 40’s though,
Her sister got her out
And only then did she first taste
What life was all about.

A center for disabled folk
Taught art and Judith thrived.
In sculpture using cloth and objects,
Artistry arrived.

Her colorful creations now
In Brooklyn* can be found.
Together they’re displayed and titled
“Bound and” yes, “Unbound.”

No one knew what Judith Scott
Was thinking while creating,
But she’s the proof within us all
Potential might be waiting.

*Brooklyn Museum

Self-Checkout

In many local chain stores,
The cashier is now passé.
You check out by yourself whenever
You’re prepared to pay.

You scan each item one by one;
The codes reveal the price
And if you have a coupon,
It’s accepted – very nice!

If you need help, a store employee’s
Waiting in the wings
And when you’re done, some bags await
For you to pack your things.

At first I wasn’t thrilled about
The whole self-checkout plan,
But since it seems to speed things up,
I’m now a loyal fan.

Set Design

A set designer should be praised
When audiences feel
That everything upon that stage
Is accurate and real.

The furniture and all the props
Should hearken from the year
The playwright chose to set the scene
And thus, the atmosphere.

The play I saw today took place
In nineteen thirty-eight.
The costumes and the furnishings
Were perfect for that date.

I felt I’d wandered back in time
With 30’s actors starring
And when I left the theater,
It was just a little jarring.

Revivals sometimes make it big
But even if it flops,
The people who designed the set
Deserve to get some props!

A Square Meal

I had a meal that wasn’t square
Though all the things I’d need were there:
Some crusty bread, some cheese and fruit
And lots of salad spreads, to boot.

A plate of veggies, nicely sliced
And lox and cream cheese, which enticed.
A pot of coffee, freshly perked
And pastries (where the cal’ries lurked).

I lunched with utter pure delight;
The hostess got it all just right.
I wonder how would one prepare
A better meal to make it square.

Happy Trails

At the end of their shows
Both Roy Rogers and Dale,
On horseback, would sing the same song.
It was meant, I suppose,
And it never did fail,
As a sweet way of saying “So long!”

For the message conveyed
As they crooned their farewell
Was, “We’ll see you again very soon;”
And the smiles they displayed,
More than words, would compel
Us to know that would be opportune.

So my husband and I,
When we’re taking our leave
Of our grandson, will sing “Happy Trails;”
And he knows it’s goodbye
But I truly believe
That more sweetness than sadness prevails.

The Little Things

It’s the little things that make a life
And not the huge occasion.
Convincing others, though, might take
A dollop of persuasion.

A wedding’s often memorable
But to the bride and groom,
More special are the moments
When their love began to bloom.

A baby’s birth we can’t forget
But in a little while
That vision won’t compare to
Each accomplishment or smile.

Anticipation of vacation’s
Part of the appeal
But looking back, we might recall
One laugh or one great meal.

Our lives are built of little things
That lack a starring role,
Yet add them up and you will see
They form a perfect whole.

Cold Day at the Zoo

The ring-tailed lemurs swished their stripes;
The tortoises perambled.
Rhinoceroses munched on hay;
The seals caroused and gamboled.

A winter day with snow on tap
Was perfect for the zoo.
The humans seemed to stay away
So visitors were few.

The cobra swayed from side to side;
The dart frogs were exquisite.
A cold and dismal afternoon’s
The time I love to visit.

Cleaning Out the Closet

Greeting cards and broken toys
And yo-yos missing strings
Were among the items ditched
With lots of other things.

Marble notebooks filled with math,
A horn that lost its toot;
Bags and bags of memories
All tossed right down the chute.

I’d emptied out the closet
For emergency repair.
It seemed the perfect time to whittle
What’s been waiting there.

Costumes, masks and crushed up hats
From years and years ago;
Magnets, pistols, doctors’ kits
And whistles that won’t blow.

Dusty dolls and lesson plans,
Cassettes with ripped-up tape;
So much stuff so nice when new
But now in sorry shape.

Finally I called it quits,
The salvaged goods all packed
Until they multiply
Then once again, I will subtract!

My Wedding Ring (Part 2)

So my super decided
He’d break down the wall.
He’d recover my ring
With no problem at all.

First he smashed down the back
Of the closet behind
Where the bathtub resides 
(And the ring was confined).

But he couldn’t quite reach
So the hole kept on growing.
I wasn’t relaxed
With the way things were going.

I tried to say, “Stop!”
But more workers arrived,
All convinced that my wedding ring
Surely survived.

As I paced and regretted
Allowing this folly,
The super extracted my ring –
Oh, my golly!

I burst into tears
Not believing my luck,
Amazed that my ring
Wasn’t vanished or stuck.

I looked up a jeweler
Who shined it to gleaming
And almost believed
All this time I’d been dreaming.

The ending is happy
So I’m not complaining
But this is one day
That was totally draining.

My Wedding Ring

My wedding ring is very plain.
It’s just a band of gold
And with its mate, it’s like my marriage –
Thirty-nine years old.

We chose our rings and had them then
Inscribed with words intended
To last a lifetime; substitutes
Are rarely recommended.

That ring is like a part of me
So I cannot explain
How in the shower, it slipped off
And tumbled down the drain.

We tried to get it back. Alas,
It seems to be quite gone.
I shed some tears and still feel sad
But life and love go on.

I’ll search for a replacement and
The moment that I choose it,
My husband’s new inscription will be,
“This time – do not lose it!”

Jon Stewart

TV Land won’t be the same
Without Jon Stewart’s face,
For he’s the one man on the air
That no one can replace.

With other newsmen slinking off
Because they’ve lost our trust,
“The Daily Show’s” lead anchor
Leaves all others in the dust.

When even those who’ve winced at jokes
He’s made at their expense
Express remorse at his departure,
Sadness must commence.

They’ll fill his seat and surely
He’ll do something else real soon,
But his announcement stuck a pin
In everyone’s balloon.

Presidents' Day Visit

Braved the cold and took a shot –
Left a perfect parking spot –
Just to get a little taste
Of one we’ve lovingly embraced.

An afternoon of pure delight
With Henry* – cute and oh, so bright –
Was worth the venture and the drive
For he’s the greatest kid alive!

I am his nana – can’t you tell?
On Gramps and me, he’s cast a spell.
We’re drawn to him like moths to flame
Since on our hearts, he’s staked a claim.

Of course, this visit had a plus
For also, rather close to us
Are Henry’s mom and dad (our son)
And seeing them was also fun.

*17 months old today!

There Are Some

There are some who see a challenge
And will always rise to meet it.
As each obstacle presents itself,
They’ll manage to defeat it.

Every day they’ll greet with confidence
That they will sail right through,
Both excited and delighted by
What next they will pursue.

Since intimidation doesn’t factor
Into their decisions,
They approach the road without the thought
Of potholes or collisions.

There are some who glide through life without
A haw, without a hem
And I guess you’ve figured out by now
That I’m not one of them.

Don't Need

Don’t need candles, don’t need wine;
Beer and fries will suit me fine.
Don’t need chocolates, don’t need roses
(Which tradition oft imposes.)

All I need’s my better half
Who, after years, still makes me laugh.
As long as he is by my side,
Our Valentines will be supplied.

Crystallized

Everyone takes pictures
But it’s still a joy to see
Museum exhibitions of
Some fine photography.

Not everybody has the eye
To capture in a print
A moment crystallized in time
Which gives us just a hint

Of someone’s life or else a glimpse
Of scenery or street;
A true photographer can show
Where art and truth might meet.

The camera is the means by which
An image stays alive.
I’m privileged to have access to
Some great ones that survive.

Bob Simon, R.I.P.

Two sounds signal Sunday night –
The “Sixty Minutes” ticks
Which lead into Bob Simon’s voice –
My end-of-weekend fix.

He feels more like a friend to me
Than just a talking head.
I’ve followed all his stories
To wherever they have led.

Across the seas, around the globe,
He’s traveled for the news
While interviewing many with
Diverse, conflicting views.

Ironically, he lost his life
At home, on native soil,
Quite far from all the places
Where, in danger, he would toil.

I’ll miss his presence on TV –
His voice, his calm, his face
And CBS will have a slot
Not easy to replace.

Missing My Keys

With jacket zipped and scarf just-so,
I reached to get my keys
But nothing dangled from their hook,
Which brought me to my knees.

I mentally went back in time –
Remembered coming in
And had to thus unlock the door,
So where do I begin?

While searching high and low, I thought,
Is this the way it starts?
My keys go first, my marbles next
And soon I’m off the charts.

The text I sent my husband
Let him know my sorry state.
At first I got no answer
And could barely concentrate.

Then suddenly, my phone a’buzz,
I did a double-take –
“I have your keys along with mine –
I grabbed them by mistake.”

As sweet relief surged through my bones,
Annoyance slipped away.
Senility may visit soon
But gladly, not today! 

Grabbing the Reins

We all have certain moments
That define the paths we’ll take
To spur us into action,
Even just for ego’s sake.

The realization that this life,
The only one we’ll know,
Has other options will decide
Which way we choose to go.

We don’t have many years to live
And we must make the choice
That resonates within our soul,
In no one else’s voice.

A sacrifice for someone else,
Though given from the heart,
May take the self that we have formed
And rip it all apart.

There isn’t time to dawdle
Or procrastinate a change,
Though when the reins are in our hands,
It’s bound to feel real strange.

Knocking Down Towers

A toddler builds a tower
Then he knocks it down with glee
And every time the fun’s the same;
That is a guarantee.

This type of play’s preparing him
For what he’ll face in life –
The highs and lows, the joy and pain,
The beauty and the strife.

The trick is to retain, with age,
The child’s determined view
That once his effort’s tumbled down,
It can be built anew.

But even if we can retain
That optimistic slant,
To laugh when things all fall apart
Is something we just can’t.

Deleted

Everyone's entitled to
Whatever's his opinion
For no one holds the power
Over intellect's dominion.

Yet sometimes it's preferred
To keep those slanted thoughts inside
Since sharing them may paint a picture
Others may deride.

No one likes a message when
It's shoved down someone's throat
And that's the reason why I just
Deleted what I wrote.

Service

When a waiter or a waitress
Seems to go the extra mile,
With a dollop of attention
Or the sprinkle of a smile

Then the meal is so much better
‘Cause the mood is so relaxed;
Conversation keeps on flowing,
No one’s patience getting taxed.

Service such as I’m describing
Sure deserves a big reward,
So when tipping time approaches,
Give the most you can afford.

Crossing the Park

The air was crisp, the trees were bare;
The paths were shoveled clean.
In Central Park today it was
Delightful and serene.

A lonely jogger trotted by;
A nanny pushed her charge.
Some dogs on leashes sniffed and strained;
The cloud-filled sky loomed large.

But mostly it was only me
A'stroll across the park,
Enveloped by the vista
Which was anything but stark.

Collision

A speeding train, an SUV,
A tragedy come true;
The warning arm came down but still
The car continued through.

The driver lost her life as did
Commuters on the train.
The reasons why it happened
Experts want to ascertain.

The passengers who passed away
All sat up in the front,
For when the crash occurred
The leading car absorbed the brunt.

Today the trains were back on track
And fully occupied
Except the first compartments, which
Had nobody inside.

Organic

My husband bought some ice cream –
Rather costly, but on sale.
“Organic” said the label
So assumptions did prevail…

Perhaps it would be healthy
(Though we usually don’t care)
Or made of some ingredients
Imbuing it with flair.

Instead, it tasted lousy.
Though the package called it “mint,”
Of that specific flavor
There was not the slightest hint.

The “chocolate” chips were carob,
Lacking any chocolate flavor.
I filled my bowl but sadly,
It was not a treat to savor.

The lesson to be learned is that
No matter the expense,
“Organic” equals not much taste.
(To purists – no offense.)

Slush

I'm never really in a rush
To traipse through gushy, mushy slush
Like that on any city street
Where puddles form from melting sleet.

The passing traffic sends up sprays
Of wetness that's seen better days
To splatter on your favorite coat
(And splash avoidance seems remote).

So in your boots, just stride on through
And do what all New Yorkers do,
Which is to shrug or maybe kvetch
'Til we complete this slushy stretch.

Winter Commute

The train was stuck;
The tracks were icy.
Weather cold;
Conditions dicey.

Stops and starts
Made travel slow.
Patience was
The way to go.

Home at last,
Relieved but spent
And wond'ring where
The hours went.

At the Drug Store

At the drug store, what to choose?
All those choices do confuse.
Vitamins for gals or men?
Over 50? Pick again!

DayQuil, NyQuil, ZzQuil or
Generic ones made by the store?
Tablets, caplets, maybe gels?
Wonder which one better sells.

Dental floss in mint or plain?
Waxed or unwaxed? What a pain!
Lotions for your winter itch
Look the same, so which is which?

I’m exhausted when I leave
Even though I do believe
Products with a different name,
Though hyped as best, are all the same!