A Hint of Fall

At last, the breeze is cool enough
To garner some respect,
Though it's not here for very long, 
The forecasters suspect.

Another heat wave's on its way
'Cause from what I recall,
This very often happens
As the summer turns to fall.

I so enjoy this little taste
Of cool; what a relief!
The heat has skulked away
Without a word, just like a thief.

But just as thieves will strike again,
Especially when dared,
We must remember summer's
Still around, and be prepared.

20,000 Bees

A cart selling hot dogs and such
Was suddenly sharp to the touch
Because thousands of bees,
Eschewing Chinese,
Thought a frank they would like very much.

They swarmed to the top of the stand
So a cop, likely one in command,
Ordered all off the street
So the bees could retreat
But that’s not what the stingers had planned.

Thus an officer, bee-suit attired,
Soon appeared with the tool he required
And his vacuum did suck
All the bees it could pluck
With finesse that onlookers admired.

New Yorkers find stuff like this funny
And likely would bet even money
That soon that same cart,
If its owner is smart,
Would be selling you hot dogs with honey!

Blazing Hot

My friends are at the tennis match
But I am here at home
And not because it’s comfortable
For me to write my poem.

The weather forecast for today
Is worse than blazing hot.
Humidity will kick in, too
And tolerant I’m not.

I watch the players on TV,
My A/C set on high,
For as I age, endurance is
In dwindling supply.

Arms-a-gettin'

I’m at a loss
Why Betsy DeVos
Wants money for weapons in school.
Though she is the boss
Her thoughts come across
As those (to my ears) of a fool.

For federal cash
From Congress’ stash
Is meant more for teachers and books
And guns seem to clash
With the aim of that cache,
Which should be out of reach of her hooks.

I yearn for the days
When such folly would raise
More than eyebrows in government halls,
But today there is praise
For this armament craze
And we watch as normality falls.

RIP John McCain

I didn’t vote for John McCain
And he was not elected,
But even to opponents,
He was honored and respected.

A navy pilot, captured and
Imprisoned and mistreated,
He never let his war years
Make him broken or defeated.

Most people, knowing of his past,
Consider him a hero.
For those who don’t, my own regard
Is something less than zero.

But now he’s gone and flags will fly
Half-staff until his burial
(Despite attempts to scale that back
By one quite adversarial).

Gravel

The driveway’s made of gravel,
Preventing slips and skids,
But really, more important,
It’s a magnet for the kids.

They pluck the rocks and toss them,
The pebbles raining down,
Then line them up, creating
Highways in a mini-town.

They scoop them up and let them
Slowly trickle through their hands
And watching them, I realize
What each Nana understands –

The simplest items can provide
Imagination’s seeds.
Some freedom under loving eyes
Is what a grandchild needs.

Slim Pickings

Went with the kids to the blueberry farm,
Everyone ready to pick.
Armed with a bucket, we wandered the rows 
But somehow our luck ran out quick.

For nary a berry on nary a bush,
Except some real tiny and tart.
The kids pulled a few, they went plunk in the pail;
We were off to a not-so-great start.

The season is ending this weekend, we heard;
I guess that explains our dumb luck.
We'll settle for strawberries that, in the store,
We managed, when shopping, to pluck.

Hotel Breakfast

Fruit Loops, oatmeal, Cheerios,
Eggs and toast and cheese;
Make your waffles, adding
As much syrup as you please.

Bacon, sausage, milk and juice,
Coffee for the grown-ups;
Yogurt for the healthy types,
(Those not needing tone-ups).

Oranges, bananas and
Some chopped-up fruit a'waiting
Moms or dads to scoop them up,
Their children salivating.

Stuff those faces, leaving tables
Full of crumbs and sticky.
Breakfast is included, so we
Really can't be picky.

When we're on vacation
And away from our own nests,
We automatically become 
Voracious hotel guests.

Sesame Place

Sitting on a shady bench,
I watch the people pass - 
Every shape and color,
Strolling sweatily en masse.

Shirtless daddies, many fat,
With bellies hanging out,
Arms and legs and backs tattooed
(And other parts, no doubt).

Moms deciding where to go,
Cajoling tots in line;
Babies, toddlers, school-age kids 
In every stage of whine.

Heat pours down and patience frays.
Wait! Here's a parade.
Cookie Monster, Ernie, Bert
And Oscar make the grade.

Then it's back to water slides
And one more carousel.
Squeals and shrieks of joy erupt -
It's fun! (or can't you tell?)

Hungry! Thirsty! Feed me now!
Nacho stand is closed.
See the stress within the smiles
Of pictures poorly posed.

Still, the fam's together
And we're mostly having fun.
I check my watch - 6 hours left
Until this day is done.

The Reward

Norman’s been missing for many a month;
The signs offer money if found.
There actually aren’t, as far as I know,
Too many Chihuahuas around.

New posters are up; the reward has been raised –
Five thousand, a heftyish sum.
If somebody has him, you’d think they’d respond
For it’s difficult not to succumb.

Alas, I suspect that poor Norman’s long gone –
Deceased or sent far as the moon,
But I feel for his owners and hope that somehow
They’ll find Norman again one day soon.

Taking the Boat

A brand-new ferry leaves its dock
One block from where I live.
It feels like it’s a present
That the city chose to give.

For I can ride downtown upon
The river’s gentle swells,
Escaping all the subway’s crowds,
The litter and the smells.

I tried it out today and found
It pleasant, fun and fast,
Absorbing different urban views
As we went chugging past.

Right now it’s like a secret
For the lucky who have scored
But I’m sure when word gets out,
It may be hard to get on board.

Facing the Music

We’ve introduced our grandkids
To the music we adore –
That’s classical or rock & roll;
They always ask for more.

For Henry’s coming birthday,
I procured a perfect book –
An intro to the orchestra;
A CD was the hook.

Describing all the instruments,
Composers for them, too,
It indicates which track to play
So all will get their due.

I realized, though, belatedly –
You’ll know before I say it –
That Henry’s house (unlike my own)
Has no place he can play it!

We listen to the radio
(Alexa helps, as well)
And in the car, for longer drives,
Some kids’ CD’s do dwell.

But modern homes have relegated
CD's to the past.
Like hi-fi’s, LP’s and cassettes,
Of course, they couldn’t last.

Expectations

We count on certain people
To do what they’re known to do
And then are disappointed if
They somehow don’t come through.

The organizers, shoppers, cooks,
The ones who plan things out –
We take a back seat, figuring
It’s done, without a doubt.

But sometimes someone doesn’t rise
To others’ expectations,
Which causes lacks and lapses
And potential complications.

We can’t assume that just because
A person’s somehow skilled
That he or she will be prepared
To have that role fulfilled.

Things

There are certain things in life
I couldn’t do without –
Reading, music and a home
Where I can muck about.

Pencils, paper, ice cream, beer,
Coffee, bagels, cheese –
Take them from me and you will
Have brought me to my knees.

Note, they’re objects I describe
Which sate my appetite.
For people, that would be
Another poem I’d have to write.

Rainbow Sighting

Like magic, it appeared above -
A rainbow in the sky,
Though there are those who could explain
The reasons how and why.

I much prefer believing
It's a little trick of fate
Which, after all the rain has gone,
Is cause to celebrate.

It hung there, vibrant, rich and bright,
With partial double twin.
We couldn't look away and others 
Shared our joyful grin.

Yet most were just oblivious,
Their eyes not primed to greet
Such glory painted 'cross the clouds, 
A rare (from Nature) treat.

Aretha

Today the Queen of Soul has passed
And all the fans she has amassed
Feel saddened by this latest news,
Since she was one we hate to lose.

As listeners, we did rejoice
When hearing her distinctive voice
And she's the person, I suspect,
We think of with the word "Respect."

For R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Shouted out, we'd all agree,
Says it all, what we all need 
In life, in order to succeed.

Aretha sang it loud and strong.
She made an anthem of that song
And no one has improved it yet;
In tribute, we will not forget.

Any Size

I don’t get this – please explain:
The sign did advertise
That cold-brew coffee costs a buck,
No matter what the size.

Iced coffee sounded good to me
So I proceeded in,
Where cups were stacked there waiting
For the filling to begin.

I asked the clerk which cup to take.
He said, “It’s up to you.
A small or extra-large will cost
The same when filled with brew.”

Of course, I chose the biggest
But what I don’t get at all
Is why any paying customer
Would opt to take the small.

Diverted

Left Tampa bound for home
And though all caution we exerted,
We've landed in Virginia
Since our flight has been diverted.

La Guardia said no more flights
Could land and so we skirted 
The airspace that surrounds it,
All the pilots thus alerted.

Though naturally I'm glad that 
Awful weather's been averted,
The passengers, including me, 
Are rather disconcerted.

My hope is that the thunderstorms
Will somehow be subverted;
If not, you'll hear some curses
Which my lips will like have spurted.

Hot!

The air is hot, the breeze is hot;
My husband's in the pool.
My feet are in the water but
I still feel like a fool.

We're visiting my aunt down south;
Her home is A/C cool.
Whenever we are here, you'll find
Me indoors, as a rule.

I thought a change of scenery
Would help my stress unspool,
But here I sit and sweat, the butt
Of Nature's ridicule.

Another Poet

The crowd was hushed and waiting
For wishes to resume
When suddenly there was
Another poet in the room.

When words might be expected,
My friends would all assume
That rhyming thoughts would come
From me, the poet in the room.

These folks were not my homies;
My sibs were there, though, whom
Would surely have expected
Me to rhyme into the room.

I had no poem I'd written,
No words with nom de plume,
But how I wished I'd been
The only poet in the room.

Thunderstorm

Sitting on an airplane,
Wanting to complain.
We cannot leave on time because 
Of thunderstorms and rain.

Not a fan of danger,
But waiting is a pain.
The stress of being late negates
The safety that we gain.

Just got an announcement -
Lightning's on the wane.
Hopefully, we'll hit the skies
And let the tension drain.

Random

The random choices that we make
Determine who we know -
The friends and kin we keep for years
And those who come and go.

For where we live and where we work
Might differ - do the math -
If, searching for career and home,
We'd walked a different path.

A house for sale some other place
Or job most opportune
May possibly have led us
To a different Brigadoon.

We cannot know what might have been
Or even if we'd trade,
But should accept the wonder of
The choices we have made.

The Dollhouse

Our grandkids have a dollhouse,
A gift we did provide,
With furniture and little folk 
To fill the rooms inside.

It's used a lot, quite lovingly,
Yet every time we come,
It all looks topsy-turvy,
Which defies my rule of thumb.

I take five minutes worth of time 
To neaten up the place,
A task the long-lost child in me
Does readily embrace.

And once I'm done, I let it go;
My set-ups they may spurn,
But even if they mess them up,
At least I've had my turn!

Blowing out the Candle

A birthday’s not a birthday
If a candle’s not involved,
Despite the fact I’ve no idea
Just how that rite evolved.

You do not need a cake –
A scone or muffin will suffice
Although, to many, iced or frosted
Cakes are rather nice.

Of course, some people do not like
A public-type display,
With candles and the birthday song
To celebrate their day.

But even if it’s private,
When that candle is aglow,
It feels more like a birthday;
Close your eyes and wish and blow!

Once August Hits

Once August hits, the summer flies,
As stores start stocking school supplies
And though it’s hot, we realize
That autumn’s drawing near.

The calendar helps emphasize
The fact that, right before your eyes,
The days of summer that we prize
Are soon to disappear.

Each year it seems like a surprise
But now’s the time to recognize
That Leo’s Virgo in disguise,
Just waiting to appear.

Hadley at Three

She strikes a fashion model pose,
Complete with playful grin.
Her toddlerhood is over –
Let the “girly” years begin!

She opens all her presents
Then insists she wants some more,
Surrounded by the wrapping paper,
Bows and cards galore.

She wants to hold her cousin,
Who’s a baby, on her lap.
“I don’t need any help!” she says,
Like it’s a handicap.

Today she’s turning three years old,
Which I cannot believe.
I wonder just what other tricks
She’s hiding up her sleeve.

After the Show

After the show, which we found a delight,
We stopped at a neighboring place for a bite.
Discussing the play over burgers and fries,
I glanced up to notice a pleasant surprise.

My favorite actor*, of six on the stage,
Sat there in the restaurant, on the same page,
Sharing a meal with an obvious friend –
Unwinding, perhaps, at the matinee’s end.

He isn’t yet famous, so no one looked twice.
(Our unbeknownst staring would have to suffice.)
I wanted to tell him we thought he was great
But a fear of intruding made me hesitate.

Yet we went ahead, interrupted his meal
To share our enjoyment; our words made him feel
Most gratified, judging by his giant grin.
Acknowledgment certainly was a win-win.

An actor’s a regular person, like us,
Despite, when he gets there, the fame and the fuss
And so it felt wonderful just to connect
With some well-chosen words and a dash of respect.

*written about Conor Ryan in "Desperate Measures"

Changing a Lightbulb

The lightbulb blows; we sigh and groan.
I’m sure that we are not alone
In being bothered by the fact
That age has made us slow to act.

The ceiling fixture’s eight feet high
And vigor is in short supply.
My husband fears that he might fall;
His balance he trusts not at all.

My shoulder aches, so reaching’s tough.
It’s hard to turn the screws enough
And if the globe is not on tight,
We’ll step on smithereens all night.

We manage, though, ‘cause I refuse
To ask for help and so I choose
To wait until I’ve jumped the shark;
I may just do so in the dark.

Buying a Gift

Buying a gift 
May give someone a lift
But it's oftentimes harder than hard.
Still, a few might be miffed,
Like they've gotten short shrift,
If you give them no more than a card.

So you browse store to store
And online even more
'Til you're dizzy and haven't found squat.
It becomes quite a chore
And you still might not score 
Though you've given it all that you've got.

In the end you give in
So your kith or your kin
Will have something from you to unwrap,
But they didn't quite win 
For they'll find that within
There is something they'd just as soon scrap.

At the Store

Needed some sneakers
So went to a store
But nobody shops
In a store anymore.

Salesfolk approached me;
No customers shopped.
Prices were discounted,
Then again chopped.

Left with a purchase –
A new sneaker pair,
But wonder how long
That same store will be there.

Two Cents

There are many who may take offense
At advice you may choose to dispense.
You won’t get in a rut
If you keep your mouth shut
So resentment won’t therefore commence.

For it’s best, when the moment presents,
That you keep yourself up on that fence;
Though if you’d been consulted
None would be insulted
By offering up your two cents.