Out of Treats

If you ran out of candy on Halloween night
In those days back when I was a kid,
You’d toss in some pennies, a nickel or dime
And the kids would be glad that you did.

But today, I suspect, even upping the coins
Wouldn’t work for those used to much more
So I guess if the candy supply peters out,
Those at home just don’t open the door.

For the “trick” if no “treats” once was harmless and tame,
Like the dusting of chalk from a sock,
But in this day and age any trickster might be
Worth avoiding if you’re out of stock.

Two Jacks

To make his jack-o-lantern,
My husband wields a knife
And carves a slightly scary face
To make it come to life.

It isn’t sketched or plotted;
Just some time is all he needs
And before he’s even finished,
I have roasted all the seeds.

My son’s approach is different
For the face is deftly planned,
The features poked out gently
With some special tools at hand.

And his jack-o-lantern’s friendly
Since his kids are 3 and 1;
But both pumpkins were terrific,
With both carvers having fun.

Though my husband’s has a candle
And my son’s a phony flame,
Each will flicker Halloween-like
To the family’s great acclaim.

Closed for Season

It's always sad for me to see,
No matter what the reason,
A sign in an establishment
Announcing "Closed for Season."

Today it was the Dairy Barn,
An ice cream place for me.
The flavors listed "pumpkin"
But it wasn't meant to be.

For it was shuttered, locked and dark
And bore that dreaded sign -
Vacation for the owners 
But the disappointment mine.

Mac & Cheese

My kids were raised on mac & cheese
And chicken nuggets, too,
With lots of fruits and veggies;
That’s what busy mothers do.

I’m not a cook and never was
And health food wasn’t in,
But mac & cheese would guarantee
A food war I would win.

I watch my grandkids once a week
And feeding them’s included.
My culinary skills still stink
So gourmet food’s excluded.

But when it’s time for dinner,
I know just the food to please –
Some chicken nuggets and, of course,
Organic mac & cheese.

Finishing a Project

I finished a project in quilting,
A rare and surprising success.
I’m proud of this feat
But it never would meet
All the standards I’d need to impress.

My stitches are rather uneven.
One side and the other don’t match,
But I made it with care
And you cannot compare
What you’d buy to what I sewed from scratch.

It’s a gift to sweet Hadley* from Nana
And I hope that someday she will know
That each pull of the thread
Can be easily read
As a message that I love her so.

*my 14 month-old granddaughter

Subway Salsa

A subway musician with salsa-like beat
In the sea of commuters, all surging,
Made some do a double-take at such a treat,
While out of the crowd was emerging…

A couple who dropped both their bags and their coats
To grasp shoulders and waists to start dancing.
They swiveled their hips as if sowing their oats
In a ballroom, their minds on romancing.

We stood on the platform, admired their moves
And thought, what a fabulous city,
Where people are able to practice their grooves
And where beauty eclipses the gritty.

Inside of Me

Poetry is what I’d see
If I could peek inside of me.
It pulses, with a beat sublime,
Converting random thoughts to rhyme.

The words secure me, just like roots
But let me float, like parachutes,
So anytime I write a poem,
No matter where I am, I’m home.

Bird Bath

While wandering some wooded paths
We witnessed warblers taking baths.
Some rocky croppings, they’d detected,
Had some dips where rain collected.

Several types of birds appeared
And waited ‘til the “bathtubs” cleared.
Taking turns, they each immersed
While those in waiting chirp-conversed.

The bathing birds, a’frenzied, flapped
As water droplets rose and slapped.
I couldn’t tell if all that preening
Was for show or simply cleaning.

Concrete jungle thoughts aside,
In New York City, we’re supplied
With lots of Nature’s hidden treasures;
Spotting them provides sweet pleasures.

A Little Nibble

I saw a little nibble
In my mini-pumpkin gourd,
But one small bite is more than
What that gourd can well afford.

The likely culprit (chipmunk?)
Didn’t like the taste he got,
Though just a tiny hole’s enough
To welcome in the rot.

What’s meant as decoration
For a Halloweeny mood
Is, to all non-human creatures,
Nothing more than gratis food.

Fleece

Wool has been replaced by fleece;
It's cozy and it's cheap,
But unemployment must be high
For flocks of fluffy sheep.

Pouring

The rain is pouring steady down,
The puddles all expanding,
While outdoor venue owners frown
With Plan B thoughts commanding.

The parched brown lawns and wilted leaves,
Though, welcome all the water
For Nature's magic, up her sleeves,
Keeps everything in order.

A rainy day may spoil some plans
No matter what the season,
But even those non-downpour fans
Must bow to earthly reason.

Showing off the City

In a city as big as New Yawk,
There’s so much at which tourists can gawk
But the locals’ fast pace
May be hard to embrace
So if guiding them, slow down your walk.

You can never squeeze everything in,
So pick places they never have been
And of course, be a mensch;*
Let them sit on a bench
Or exhaustion will make their heads spin.

Have them soak up the buzz we provide,
Surely different from where they reside.
They may love it or not
But at least they’ll have got
Just a taste of what fills us with pride.

*an admirable human being

One in a Million

Picture this: you make a call
To straighten out a bill.
Of course, what you expect’s a battle
Being fought uphill.

Instead, you get dear Caroline
Who listens and who hears,
Which you have not experienced
In many, many years.

She takes your information down
And keeps you on the line.
You aren’t put on hold
Or disconnected by design.

She does a little research
‘Cause she really wants to solve
What the problem is, no matter who
Or what it does involve.

She tracks down radiology
And gets them on the phone –
(A 3-way call!) explaining
In a calm and measured tone.

I’m blown away to learn that such
A person still exists.
For those of you whose skepticism
Naturally persists…

I understand your reasons
For the playing field is bleak
But with luck you may find Caroline,
An agent quite unique!

How Would...

How would it feel to be tall? To be rich?
To be bedridden, hungry or poor?
How would I cope with a limp or a twitch
Or a wheelchair to get out the door?

How would I live with no water or heat
Or with servants to tend to my needs?
How would I thrive with no friends I could greet
Or my talents thought worthless as weeds?

How would it be to be not who I know
As myself all the way to the core?
There’s no way to tell but I hope, even so,
I’d be me still – no less and no more.

Right Turn Only

The sign says “Right turn only”
But routinely, it’s ignored.
For the law-abiding drivers,
Patience isn’t a reward.

As the right-lane disobeyers
Surge ahead to make the light,
Those who do what they’re supposed to
Sigh and lose another fight.

Traffic police are not effective
For there’s no way any cop
Can convince a wayward driver
That his trespass ought to stop.

You can guess from my frustration
That I’m following the rules
Which appear to be created
For the passive or the fools.

Queasy

I’m feeling a little bit queasy.
I’m sure it was something I ate.
So I think it be best
If my stomach can rest;
Any intake will likely tempt fate.

My mom was a fervent believer,
When I felt this way, that some hot tea
With grape jelly on toast
Would be better than most
Other foods to bring health back to me.

It worked back when I was a child
But at present it doesn’t appeal.
Yet some chips and a beer
Somehow seem to appear
Like the best anti-queasiness meal.

The Drone Guy

My ears perked up at Bauer
When the radio talked sports.
A player for the Indians,
By all the news reports,

Was set to pitch Game 2
(The Series winding toward the end)
When he had a "pinkie laceration,"
Needing time to mend.

He'll get to start Game 3, they hope,
His hobby left alone,
For Trevor Bauer's injury
Was blamed upon his drone.

When baseball Bauers hit the news,
(I've 2 of them to thank)
I won't claim kinship go the drone guy,
Just to Cousin Hank!*

(not true!)

Sharp as a Tack

Sharp as a tack is what they say
When someone is perceptive,
But when that person's old and gray
The brain's not as receptive.

He may still seem both quick and smart
In things that really matter,
But aging surely plays its part
To make that tack much flatter.

Semantics

My scan was not “preventative;”
Instead it was “routine.”
Insurance will not pay it
If it’s somewhere in between.

But can someone please explain
How any X-ray, scan or test
Can be thought of as “routine?”
I think that this should be addressed.

Every dental check-up, mammogram
Or colonoscopy
Has a purpose – to prevent a problem
That might come to be.

So denying reimbursement
Seems a pure display of antics,
Swindling unsuspecting patients
By resorting to semantics.

Fasting

If you ever have the chance to fast,
One thing you’ll want to know
Is why, as time goes crawling past,
The hours seem so slow!

Not a Cloud...

A day like this is not allowed
Too often, for there’s not a cloud
To interrupt the view on high
Of smooth, serene and boring sky.

Don’t get me wrong – the weather’s great
And most folks wouldn’t hesitate
To choose this over one where there
Are cumuli up in the air.

Yet I prefer adornment, so
A clouded sky’s the way to go.
I love the sunshine, but delight
In skyscapes dappled through with white.

The Other Half

Toured a mansion and its grounds,
The gardens most amazing,
Far beyond the scope of words
You’d summon for some praising.

Of all the beauty, what I loved
Was what was given when
The daughter of the patriarch
Turned, on her birthday, 10.

Her gift? A thatched-roof cottage,
Big enough to make a home,
With a fireplace and furniture.
(And worthy of a poem!)

Surely any girl would welcome
Such a present, but in truth
Only very few experience
A fairy-princess youth.

For the rest of us, imagination
Hopefully can match
Such a fantasy-come-true, complete
With roofing made of thatch!

Autumn Coats

The stubborn trees remain in green,
Annoyed to change too soon,
Like people who wear P.J.’s
Several hours after noon.

Their friends have donned their autumn coats
In oranges and golds,
With acorns brought by squirrels
Tucked away inside the folds.

The ochres and the emeralds mingle
On the highway’s edge,
Providing pops of color
As the rain performs its dredge.

Drawing closer to the city,
All the muted colors fade
‘Cause their city cousins aren’t dressed yet
For the fall parade.

The Lesser Evil

There was a time a president
Was someone we'd revere,
But now we live in what I'd call
A different atmosphere.

We have to choose between a woman
People just don't trust
And someone else whose attitude
Fills folks with pure disgust.

The lesser evil surely seems
Quite obvious to me.
I guess that this Election Day
We'll see if most agree.

The Moms

I watch the moms at pre-school
In their stretchy work-out clothes
And remember I was one of them -
Or somewhat, I suppose.

My outfits weren't Lycra
And I didn't drive to school
But I did belong to what you'd call
That stay-at-home mom pool.

I wonder if I seemed to be
As confident as they.
I know inside I certainly
Did not feel quite that way.

I lived that life so long ago
But seeing them en masse
Makes me realize they have not a clue
Of what will come to pass.

Potential

My relatives in Florida
Are gearing for a fight.
A hurricane is on its way,
Expected by tonight.

The schools and airports have been shut;
The food store shelves are bare.
Anxiety is on the news
And in the very air.

This storm is known as Matthew,
Category 4 at least.
Soon both Florida and Georgia
Will be fodder for this beast.

There’s a lot of hype ‘round hurricanes
So fingers have been crossed
Hoping that en route, this monster storm
Might somehow just get lost.

Infectious

While attending today’s matinee
Of a fairly new one-woman play,
     My so-called “better half”
     Heard a boisterous laugh
From the audience, making his day.

Though the play was deserving of mirth
This was like the best laughter on earth.
     When the show did conclude
     He looked ‘round for just who’d
Chortled loudly for all she was worth.

With the lights on, he focused his eyes
To find she of those jubilant cries.
     He was thrilled when he found
     That the best laugh around
Came from someone he knew – a surprise!

Destination

You cannot leave the house unless
You have a destination,
‘Cause once you’ve crossed the threshold
There must be perambulation.

It might be to your car or yard
Or mailbox or the store,
But even just out for a walk,
Once you have closed the door…

You have to move; you cannot stand
Stock still or you’ll be stuck,
With no one nearby waiting
To help free you from the muck.

Perhaps the secret key to life
Is thinking through and knowing
Exactly where you plan to be
When you begin your going.

The Shofar

The shofar fills the synagogue
With sounds which once were heard
On ancient plains, where ancestors
Are possibly interred.

Each Rosh Hashanah, patiently,
I wait to hear those notes
Come pouring through the twisted horns
Of sacrificial goats.

Those resonating plaintive blares
Both echo and resound,
Reminding us another year
Has somehow rolled around.

I’m not at all religious
But just once a year I go
To a temple where I’ll get to hear
That mournful shofar blow.

The Dollar Store

The quality is not the best,
The choices not too many,
But it's the place to go to save
The so-called "pretty penny."

The aisles are filled with housewares,
Wrapping paper, cards and toys.
You'll find candy and cosmetics,
Socks and bibs for girls or boys.

Decorations for a party,
School supplies and bags of snacks;
There are sheets and towels and blankets,
Even underwear on racks.

I would hate to have to shop there,
Though so many people do.
Still, it's hard to pass one by without
A stop to see what's new.

Giving In

A little chill has crept inside
Since summer's skulked away.
At first a sweatshirt does the trick
To keep the cold at bay.

But finally I must give in,
Admitting my defeat,
For up go the electric bills
When we turn on the heat.