A Confluence of Events

This weekend there's a confluence
Of separate events,
Each of which might make a person
Just a bit uptight or tense.

Halloween's the main attraction - 
Better fill those candy banks 
For those seeking treats in costumes
And the tricksters playing pranks.

Then at CitiField, there's baseball - 
A World Series with the Mets.
If they tie it with the Royals,
That's as crazy as it gets.

Next, at two a.m., the clocks change
So we move them back to one;
For the revelers or spirits
There's some extra time for fun.

Last, the Marathon's on Sunday -
Runners gathering en masse,
With the locals out to cheer them,
Shouting praises as they pass.

If we all survive the weekend,
And we will, make no mistake,
Monday morning, dawning brightly,
Will be just a piece of cake!

Autumnly Adorned

The bright red maple sits out front,
So autumnly adorned.
A few more windy days will make
Those scarlet leaves be mourned.

For now, though, she's the queen
And all around's her royal court
Dressed in oranges and yellows
In a show of fall support.

As the sun lights up the colors
In a fiery display,
It's an honor to bear witness
To the season's stunning sway.

Such a short-lived burst of beauty's
Surely worthy of regard,
Though you might withhold your praise 
If you're the one to rake your yard!

Time to Kill

When you have some time to kill
A lot of things can fill the bill:
Window shop or browse the stores;
Check your list and do some chores.

Try a crossword, read a book;
Give the New York Times a look.
Answer emails, phone a friend;
Write those checks you meant to send.

Sip some coffee, take a walk;
Pass a neighbor - stop and talk.
Clean a closet, grab a snack;
Trip approaching? Start to pack.

Find a comfy place to sit;
Reminisce or plan a bit.
If there's still more time, you might
Tap into your creative side and write!

The Mets

New York’s in a frenzy –
A World Series with the Mets!
To many sports fans, that’s as good
As baseball ever gets.

But this here gal’s a Yankees fan
And, if the truth be told,
The New York Mets have always left me
Just a little cold.

I hope they win, for New York’s sake,
Though it’s too late to sweep;
But in those extra innings,
I was peacefully asleep.

Laundry

We do the laundry once a week
And stick to that routine
Ensuring that the clothes we wear
Are relatively clean.

We could go longer if we chose
But once the basket’s full,
The urge to empty it begins
Exerting habit’s pull.

With clothes and linens in a cart,
We head for the machines,
Just waiting in the basement
Where the laundry crowd convenes.

My husband loads them up and then,
The cycle at an end,
They’re switched into the dryers
Where some time they’ll have to spend.

Together we remove them
And we smooth them out and fold
Until, voila! They’re stacked in piles,
A vision to behold.

There’s certain satisfaction
When you’re finished with a chore
But before you blink, that basket
Will be fuller than before.

Gargoyles

Here in New York City,
There’s not much I wouldn’t give
If I only had a gargoyle
On the building where I live.

Whether sinister or silly,
I’d be charmed with every glance
For there’s rarely a façade
A gargoyle couldn’t help enhance.

Sadly, all the new construction
Lacks such details in their plans,
Which is very disappointing
To the many gargoyle fans.

Yet there still are many places
Where a gargoyle may be hidden
From a time before such artistry,
Alas, has been forbidden.

Just One Life

Unless we reincarnate
We are granted just one life.
We have to make the best of it –
The joys and all the strife.

The days they trickle slowly
And, no matter how we live,
Our time on earth is limited,
Like sand stuck in a sieve.

So even if we agonize
It’s best to let things go.
When days are numbered, it’s a waste
To spend them feeling low.

But human nature fools us
So we think we have forever
To fret and figure fare-thee-wells
Are not for ones so clever.

Zydeco

You really can’t stay in your seat
When Zydeco is played.
Your dancing inhibitions
May just disappear and fade.

The beat is so infectious
That your toes will start to tap
And your fingers will start dancing
If they’re lying in your lap.

I hear it first in New Orleans;
It made me itch to dance.
It’s the same each time I hear it
But I rarely get the chance.

Though accordions will never
Be the instruments for me
When some Zydeco is playing
Their appeal, at last, I see.

Baby-Raising

Baby-raising's for the young.
It really knocks you out;
But it's a song we've likely sung - 
What life is all about.  

Though it's a joy - make no mistake -
It's utterly exhausting;
And if your children are the cake,
Then grandkids are the frosting!

To a Crawl

When traffic has slowed to a crawl
And you fear you'll be late to the ball
     Just try hard not to freak
     Also temper your piqué
All while hoping your car doesn't stall.

Though the radio might help distract
Plus some snacks that you hopefully packed
     Don't glance up at the clock
     You'll be in for a shock
And who knows how you might then react.

For if patience is one of the tools
We must use as we follow the rules
     It's important to know
     That no fuses will blow
Well, except those of road-raging fools.

Back to the Future Day

It’s “Back to the Future” Day,
Whaddya know?
I’m not a fanatic;
The news told me so.

Part 2 chose this date
For when Marty McFly
Made a trip to the future.
(I’ve no idea why.)

But on West 46^th,
Where I happened to be,
A DeLorean sat
For all passers to see.

It looked just like the movie,
With doors opened wide
And each person who saw it
Imagined that ride.

When you live in Manhattan,
It’s not a surprise
To find newsworthy subjects
In front of your eyes.

When Exhaustion Hits

When exhaustion hits
And it digs down deep,
Then you must obey
And sink into sleep.

For your eyes will close
Though you try to fight.
Better show respect
And just say good night.

Even poems succumb
When your brain is fried.
Let the record show
That at least you tried.

At the Hospital

The symptoms often do not match
A typical disease.
The specialists all order tests
But nobody agrees.

What brought you to the ER
Might not have a proper name
But feeling awful is the only
Reason that you came.

They’ll poke, they’ll prod and they’ll observe
Before they diagnose
And sometimes with no answer
They’ll be saying, “Adios!”

A hospital’s the place to go,
I think we’ll all agree,
With resources a’plenty
But no hospitality.

Family Planting Day

A shovel and a bag of bulbs
Were there for each to claim.
A painted tongue depressor
Proudly bore each planter's name.

The children, ages two and three,
With moms and dads in tow,
Attacked the dirt to dig the holes
Where daffodils would grow.

A random nana made the scene
(Some grandpas showed up, too)
So I was there to witness
What my grandson got to do.

A bagel and a cookie
And an apple did await
All the gardeners who finished
As a way to celebrate.

A lovely afternoon it was
For joy it sure did bring
But also there'll be (hopefully)
Some flowers in the spring!

Pumpkin Seeds

You dig through lots of gunk and gook
To slide the suckers out,
With stringy stuff a'sticking but
That's what it's all about.

You toss them in a colander
And rinse off all the slime,
But don't attempt to do this
If you haven't got the time.

At last they're clean or cleanish
So you pat them off to dry
Where a baking sheet is waiting;
Your salt is standing by.

You sprinkle them quite freely
Then you pop them in to bake,
But if you don't check them often
That would be a big mistake.

You turn them once, re-salt them
Then when they are slightly browned,
Remove and shake them in a bowl,
The greatest snack around.

I make them only once a year
When Halloween is nigh,
A lot of effort but much less
Than baking pumpkin pie!

Self-Advocacy

You can stand up for yourself and be shocked and proud
But there might just be a chance
That the ones you've shown your feelings to
Will look at you askance.

Yet it's worth the risk if you're confident
That you've made a valid point
Even though those whom you've made it to
Seem a little out of joint.

For to clear the air is much better than
To let hurt or anger stew.
You may lose a bit in some others' eyes
But become a better you.

Upended

When ways of life get changed from those
On which we have depended,
Our equilibrium gets jarred
As if we’ve been upended.

The chore of trudging to the bank
Depositing our wages
Is almost as old-fashioned as
To read a book with pages.

Those quarters in your pocket
For the meter or the wash
Are like talking on a landline,
Something given the kibosh.

You need some shoes? Try Zappos
Or, if you are short of time,
Forget the stores – just click from home
On Amazon (but Prime!).

A restaurant reservation?
Open Table does the trick
And ZocDoc finds a doctor
With appointments if you’re sick.

Examples could go on, but here’s
The point that I intended –
When what’s familiar disappears,
We’ve somehow been upended.

From the Source

Listen to a writer
As she reads the words she wrote
And marvel as she brings to life
Each quip or anecdote.

For the effort she endeavored
Just to make each perfect choice
Is reflected in inflections
Found in no one else’s voice.

If you’re lucky, she’ll be sharing
Certain unknown background tales,
Such a treat for those attending
And, perhaps, a boost for sales.

Though a writer on a book tour
Is obliged to show, of course,
For the readers, it’s exciting
To hear words straight from the source.

Drifting

The river drifts and so do I
Though I am less confined,
For neither banks nor borders
Stop the journeys of my mind.

No time constraints to burden me,
No anchors to be cast;
I float away and might just opt
To dock within the past.

And when I tire of where I’ve been,
I might, if I so choose,
Adventure to the future
On a how-might-this-be cruise.

I watch the water’s waves wend by
To join the ocean yon
And delve into whatever place
My mind next settles on.

A Fun Day

A gorgeous day to meet with friends
To take a little hike,
Just catching up with lots of laughs;
There’s nothing not to like.

A burger and a beer just wrap
It all up with a bow,
Though paradise can’t last, of course;
The traffic home’s real slow.

But still, despite the lengthy ride
Of inching cars and miles,
I wish there were more days like this one,
Filled with friends and smiles.

An Argument

An argument goes round and round
And round and round again
Until you take a breather,
Then you have to say “Amen!”

The rationalizations
Or attempts to change one’s mind
Repeat themselves ad nauseum
As they become entwined.

There’s often no escape hatch.
Like a hamster on a wheel,
The purpose is to stay in place
And every sound’s a squeal.

The only way to stop it
Is to pause and have a beer.
Though nothing’s solved, at least there is
A nicer atmosphere.

Select Bus

Years ago, you dropped in coins;
The driver gave you change,
Just exactly as expected.
No one found it odd or strange.

Next, exact change was demanded
Until tokens did appear,
Though the size of them did alter,
For no reason very clear.

Soon the MetroCard did follow,
Filled with cash so you’d not worry;
Yet at times it didn’t work,
Those times when you were in a hurry.

Fares, of course, kept going up
As I guess they always will
But the way we pay evolves
And so we have to learn the drill.

As for now, on the Select Bus,
You buy tickets by machine
But before you board the bus;
It’s created quite a scene.

People climb aboard and wonder
Why there’s no place there to pay
So the driver must explain
At least a thousand times a day.

Soon all riders will be in on
What to do and where and when;
By the time it seems routine, you know
They’ll change it once again.

Bedtime

My bedtime varies; what does not’s
The nightly bed routine –
Wash face, brush teeth and TCB –
You must know what I mean.

I slap some anti-wrinkle cream
Upon my skin, although
Of course it doesn’t work;
(My trusty mirror tells me so.)

My nightgown is already on
So all that’s left to do
Is hit the sack and close my eyes
With dreamland to pursue.

Though many read or bathe before
They trundle off to bed,
I’m often so exhausted
That I’m hanging by a thread.

So bedtime is a welcome thing
But please make no mistake
For somehow, three hours later,
I’m annoyingly awake.

The Simple Days

I miss the simple days of yore
When all the rules were known,
The type of life we had before
It shrank into a phone.

When patience was required
For the effort that it took
To get answers we desired
From the right library book.

When our choices weren’t many
On the AM or TV
And a candy for a penny
Was quite good enough for me.

No technology to stump me
And convince me I’m a fool,
Just the smarts I had to pump me
That I learned at home and school.

From a different generation
I’ve been thrust out from the past.
Since I stink at adaptation,
I’ve been totally surpassed.

National Kale Day

Today we celebrate the king
(Of vegetables, that is).
To see how smart you are, just try
To pass this little quiz.

How many calories does kale
Contain in just one cup?
The answer’s 33, so go on –
Gobble some right up.

Percentage that one cup provides
Of vitamins you need?
For C and A and K, more than
100*, guaranteed.

It lowers both cholesterol
And certain cancer risks.
It’s versatile, so add it
To your salads or your bisques.

I’m really not a health nut
But today I have to hail
What we all missed in our childhood days –
The miracle of kale!

*C=134%, K=684%, A=204%

A Different Neighborhood

Walk a different neighborhood
From where you do reside
And you’ll feel the deviation,
Like a widening divide.

For the stores are unfamiliar
As are all the passersby.
You’re a stranger in your city
Which your age does magnify.

For the downtown crowd is hipper
And they’re brandishing their youth,
Making everyone invisible
Who’s longer in the tooth.

Somehow when I’m on vacation
In a place I do not know,
There’s excitement being part of
All the dwellers’ ebb and flow.

But within my own environs,
In a neighboring frontier,
There are times it really feels like
I just seem to disappear.

Ode to My Stove

I light the oven with a match
But then it heats real well.
The burners function perfectly,
As far as I can tell.

There’s storage space for pots and pans
Behind a separate door
And extra room on top for things,
A plus that I adore.

My percolator sits there with
My iron and a crock
Filled with spatulas and ladles
And assorted kitchen stock.

It’s sixty years of age, so many
Never could embrace it.
I like its continuity;
There’s no need to replace it.

Like me, it’s almost an antique.
We’ve both watched seasons pass
But hopefully, together we’ll keep
Cooking with the gas!

Cozy (The Long Version)

When the air has a chill
We up north know the drill
And can remedy that in a snap;
For when chattering cold,
What’s more precious than gold
Is a blanket or quilt on your lap.

An alternative call
Is a sweater or shawl
Which can also accomplish the same.
Ditto flannel or fleece,
Though the fashion po-lice
May not care that mere warmth is your aim.

It’s exceedingly clear
When those chills disappear
You’ll feel cozy and sheltered and snug;
And it’s hard to improve
On that coziness groove –
It’s like giving your insides a hug.

Cozy

Life seems rosy
When you're feeling cozy.

Hurricane Names

A hurricane named for a man
Doesn't seem like a flash in the pan
     For where women once ruled
     We had nobody fooled;
From disasters, the masculine ran.

But today, as you might just suspect,
It would not be considered correct
     To exclude all the men
     So we're "equal" again
And some himicanes we should expect.

The Sides

They wave or say good morning
Or they greet you with a smile,
The ones you pass each day or else
See just once in a while.

The doormen, mailmen, crossing guards,
The grocers and the clerks;
Construction crews with hard hats
Where a building’s in the works.

The nameless neighbors you might see
When out to exercise;
The waiters who know just the way
You like your well-done fries.

A friendly nod, a “Hey – nice day!’
To elevate your mood
Is just the boost you need to help
Improve your attitude.

If life’s a banquet, friends and kin
With entrees fill our plates.
They satisfy the hunger
That reality creates.

But what’s a meal without the tastes
Each other dish provides?
I thank all those who cross my path
And represent the sides.