Courtship

I watched a sparrow on the ground

With an insistent tweet.

Another bird flew over,

Bringing her a bite to eat.

This ritual repeated 

With some crumbs from beak to beak.

I Googled this behavior and 

I learned I’d had a peek

At a fine display of courtship,

Not so different from our own.

Without the wine and tablecloths,

A seed had still been sown.

I guess it’s universal -

When it comes to pitching woo,

The sharing of a meal is what

Most couples tend to do.

When Plans are Made

 When plans are made, there is a chance 

That they might need to change,

For life throws curves and some events

You’ll have to rearrange. 

The reasons do not matter -

Family, weather, health or work,

Since beneath the surface calmness,

Unexpected problems lurk.

When I make plans, it’s always with

At least a grain of salt,

Prepared to cancel, knowing that 

Nobody is at fault.

On Memorial Day

If my father never made it home,

I wouldn’t  have been born,

Yet so many soldiers’ families,

Through the years, have been forlorn.

Every service member suffers,

For the ones who stay alive

Deal with scars and trauma, even guilt

Because they did survive.

On this holiday of mourning,

Let us pause and give our thanks 

To all those who served their country,

Every branch and all the ranks.

Having Enough

There isn’t much I want or need

In terms of concrete things,

For any purchase, guaranteed

Comes weighted down with strings.

Since through the years, the stuff I buy

Accumulates until 

There’s no more room, although I’ll try

To more than take my fill.

Without the wall space, I can’t hang

Some art that does attract.

Another pair of earrings? Dang!

I’ve plenty; that’s a fact.

My closet’s full of clothes and shoes,

Yet new ones catch my eye.

By giving in, what’s there to lose?

Yet if I get them - why?

My older self pulls in the reins;

I don’t need more new stuff 

Because, by now, I have the brains

To know I have enough.

A Little Chill

Though the sun is warm

There’s a little chill,

But I’m here outside

Soaking up my fill.

There are lots of birds

Chirping up a storm.

They don’t think about

If it’s cool or warm.

Ants are crawling by

And a bee buzzed past,

Sending me a sign 

Summer’s coming fast.

Since I hate the heat,

Hope it’s not too soon

And this weather lasts

All the way through June.

On the Cusp

All our lives we're on the cusp

When entering a phase,

From infancy to toddlerhood 

And on, all through our days.

We go to school and then we’re on

The cusp of a career.

We date and fall in love; the cusp

Of family life draws near.

We reach the cusp of middle age

And possibly success,

Along with all the highs and lows 

Of life and all the stress.

As years go by, we reach the cusp

Of yet another stage,

Becoming “seniors” with the downfalls 

Linked with older age.

It ends the way that it begins -

For right from our first breath,

We go through life, forgetting

We are on the cusp of death.

The Fourth Grade Concert

The fourth grade band was playing

But my eyes were there alone

Not for flutes or clarinets or drums,

Just Henry on trombone.

All the music was familiar 

From the practicing he’d done,

So I knew just what was coming

Once the concert had begun.

He looked confident and happy

Sitting up there on the stage 

As I realized, in his childhood,

He has turned another page.

What a thrill to watch him growing

And I know if I’m around,

That wherever music takes him,

That’s the place where I’ll be found.

Not Allowed

Motorbikes are not allowed

Out here where people stroll.

Smoking’s not permitted, either;

Fresh air is the goal.

Blasting music’s also banned

So peace can be enjoyed,

Which is why, right here and now,

I’m feeling so annoyed.

A motorcycle zipped on past

And stopped one bench away.

Two guys got off and took a seat;

There’s nothing I can say.

Their  music’s loud, their reefer stinks;

They’re coughing up a storm.

Behavior such as this is not,

Around here, quite the norm.

Yet lately I’ve been witness to

Obnoxiousness galore

And it appears that lawlessness 

Will happen more and more.

What’s not allowed is just a phrase;

It doesn’t mean a thing,

For nowadays it seems to me

Offensiveness is king.

Word of the Day

Today’s definition is BOWER,

A shelter of tree boughs and vines

Which sometimes has blossoms that flower,

With man-made or Nature’s designs.

 

It’s also a common misspelling

For Bauer, my married last name,

Despite all the products now selling

As Bauer, of clothes and skates fame.

 

Still, I like the “bauer” connection.

It conjures an image quite pleasant,

Much better, of course, on reflection,

Than its translated meaning of “peasant.”

At the Dance Recital

The youngest dancers twirled or stood,

Adorable but clueless,

While veterans did all they could

To dazzle, mostly shoeless.

 

The costumes sparkled in the lights,

With ballerinas prancing

While hip hop outfits, blacks and brights,

The lyrics were enhancing.

 

The audience, both thrilled and loud,

Cheered every presentation

And as the dancers shyly bowed,

All shared in their elation.

 

My grandchild was amazing!

With her flowers, proudly beaming,

She soaked up all our praising,

To be summoned in her dreaming.

To All the Drivers

To all the drivers on the roads,

With empty cars or filled-up loads,

I wish you’d stayed in your abodes

And left the highways free.

For moving at a turtle’s pace,

With miles of traffic still to face,

Which, lately, seems the normal case,

Is simply not for me.

So heed my words and stay at home

Since, if you feel the need to roam,

You’ll join a sea of steel and chrome,

An awful place to be.

Important Papers

We store important papers

In a fire-proof metal box,

Which isn’t really that secure,

Not having codes or locks.

 

It’s where we keep our passports,

Title to the car and deed,

Plus a bunch of envelopes with notes

That we no longer need.

 

But it was fun to sort through

Items sitting there for years,

Like certificates and paperwork

From both of our careers.

 

My favorite find contained a list

Of wedding gifts galore

We received from friends and family,

Many on this earth no more.

 

A coffee pot, a vase, a wok

And an electric knife

And lots of checks both large and small

To start our married life.

 

We tossed outdated papers

But I couldn’t quite resist

Holding on to just a few, including

Our old wedding list.

Spending Habits

The way we spend our money

Is as varied as it gets,

From those who sock it all away

To those who run up debts.

Though most of us are in between 

And when it comes to buying,

Some people splurge on things that would

To me be mystifying.

Expensive meals or clothes or jewels 

Defy my understanding,

Yet money spend on travel 

I think keeps your mind expanding.

For those who purchase tickets

To see concerts, fairs and shows,

Each penny spent is worthy of

Where all that money goes.

Our spending habits often trace 

To ways that we were raised

And frequently they’re so ingrained,

To change them, we’d be crazed.

Yet most of us with extra cash

Have something on this earth

Which we’d give in and splurge on

For whatever it is worth.

All My Cares

Wind is whipping, boats are zipping

On this lovely day.

Kids are skipping, trees are dipping;

Doesn’t feel like May.

It’s inviting, though, for writing;

Sunshine’s on display.

Bugs aren’t biting, no one’s fighting;

Stress remains at bay.

As I’m sitting, it seems fitting 

Thoughts I can convey.

Time permitting, I’ll stay flitting

All my cares away.

Black and White

I liked when things were black and white

And everyone knew wrong from right

And mostly fists were used to fight,

So life seemed simpler then.

 

When people followed traffic rules

And guns were never fired in schools

And voters would reject the fools;

We seemed much smarter then.

 

When meet-ups happened face to face

And phones remained at home, in place

And courtesy, respect and grace

Were much more common then.

 

I miss those times when stress was rare

And hatred wasn’t everywhere,

Or maybe I should not compare –

I was much younger then.

An Art Fair

We went to an art fair to look at some art.

The prices were listed, which set us apart

From the people who’d purchase a painting displayed

Without thinking too much of the price that they paid.

 

From a couple of Calders (at 45 thou)

To a few with a price tag eliciting Wow!

There were many quite lovely, while some others shown

Were, no matter the price, works I’d not want to own.

 

Still, it’s always a pleasure to visit a place

Where creative collections are there to embrace.

Let the rich people buy them; I’m happy to gaze,

Sharing my admiration with smiles and praise.

The Older We Get

The older we get, the longer the time

It takes for our bodies to heal,

So we shouldn’t regret, since we’re out of our prime,

That we aren’t as strong as we feel.

 

Be it virus or flu or a cut or a bruise,

What took days to improve now takes weeks.

The old cures we once knew our new selves just refuse

To allow us to climb to our peaks.

 

Our two choices then are to ignore the advice

And resume our activities fast,

Or, though it seems bizarre, to avoid rolling dice

And slow down ‘til all symptoms have passed.

 

What will be, either way, if we rush or we halt, 

We’ll be subject to what fate has planned.

At the end of the day, it is nobody’s fault,

Due to forces we can’t understand.

A Mothers' Day Thought

All of us have mothers

(Be they living or deceased),

But only some of us have kids

(Or grands, to say the least).

 

So Mothers’ Day is tricky –

There are highs and there are lows.

We might be thrilled or disappointed –

That’s the way it goes.

 

Today, for me, was wonderful,

Despite a touchy start.

An afternoon with family

Was soothing to my heart.

 

A little lunch, a sweet bouquet

And lovely chocolate cake,

Plus a special trombone concert

Such a perfect day did make.

 

I don’t need fancy keepsakes

To remind me I’ve a place

In the hearts of those I love,

A Mothers’ Day thought to embrace.

Impatient Patient

My husband’s an impatient patient,

Though I cannot blame him,

For waiting to go home is something 

I knew would inflame him.

But when you’re at the mercy of

Professionals, you’re tethered

To all of their machines and tests,

Which leave you spent and weathered.

You sometimes gotta suck it up

And let them probe and poke you,

Despite the fact the bill you’ll get 

Is guaranteed to soak you.

My husband’s an impatient patient,

Which, of course, is trying,

But lets me know, to my relief,

Today he won’t be dying.

Our Sense of Style

Our sense of style (or lack of it)

Evolves but gets its start 

When we are of a tender age

(Not merely young at heart).

For many children know if they

Like shining in a crowd 

And therefore will prefer their clothes

Bright, sparkly or loud.

While others like to blend or fade;

(Unnoticed would be best).

In basic clothing, unadorned,

Is how they will be dressed.

Our preferences may change a bit,

But probably not much.

The snazzy dressers and the plain

Will likely stay as such.

What We Leave Behind

I think of those I knew who’ve passed

And what they’ve left behind,

Impressions that remain engraved

In caverns of my mind.

 

Perhaps just an expression

Or some laughter we once shared

Or a reaching-out connection

Where our truest selves were bared.

 

I conjure up some habits

That endeared or else annoyed

Which, for reasons I don’t know,

Have yet to vanish in the void.

 

We write our wills, bequeathing

What we treasure to our kin,

But the best of us we leave behind

Is what resides within.

Under Observation

A boat called the Manhattan II,

With sightseers on board,

Just glided by en route to places

That they’ve not yet toured.

 

Inside were people sitting down

But outside, on the deck,

Some tourists stood, with better views

Of sights they’d want to check.

 

Their camera phones were pointing,

For the scene that they could see

Did include the mayor’s mansion

And, in front, included me!

 

I gazed back like a creature

Stuck inside a zoo somewhere,

Under observation while returning

Each onlooker’s stare.

Adhesives

Adhesives come in many forms –

There’s glue and tape and paste,

Including some that double-stick,

If you’ve no time to waste.

 

There also are some methods

Which will help things to adhere

In temporary fashion

So a page won’t disappear…

 

Such as paper clips and fasteners

And staples, tacks and pins,

Among the tools that many need

Before their work begins.

 

Still, unless you have an editor,

There is no easy trick

To remind a lazy writer

To his topic he should stick.

Unseen

Below the sea, unknown to me,

Are many things I cannot see

And on the ground, I look around

And know more things unseen abound.

 

For there are worms the rain confirms

And in the air a billion germs,

Plus many bugs ‘neath Nature’s rugs,

Which hide along with snails and slugs.

 

What’s also real that we can feel,

But needn’t see, but helps us deal

Is how we know, though it won’t show,

When we should stick around or go.

Non-Fiction in The New Yorker

If the subject is appealing,

I’ll, at first, begin to read,

Though the facts with which I’m dealing

Are way more than what I need. 

All the knowledge that I’m gaining,

By the time I reach page 3,

Can’t prevent my interest waning

And I’m sure it’s not just me.

Aren’t the editors aware of

When a story is too long?

For, as readers, we despair of

Lack of reining in what’s wrong.

What I mostly end up doing

Is abandoning, mid-stream,

Someone’s effort, rarely ruing 

That it might be gaining steam.

Still, I’ll stick with my subscription;

Through its pages I will comb.

What might cause a true conniption

Is an enigmatic poem!

Coronation Day

A Cinderella chariot,

Eight horses in the lead;

Two heavy looking crowns that seemed

Uncomfortable, indeed.

A scepter and an ermine robe,

An orchestra and choir,

With all that pomp and heraldry

Intended to inspire.

The royal family on board,

Except the ones estranged;

The military marchers

And the guests, just-so arranged.

Amazing to bear witness to

The history, the bling. 

I joined the world to watch

The coronation of a king.

Pedestrians and Pigeons

The water’s kinda choppy

But the sun, at least, is strong,

So I’m out here by the river,

On the bench where I belong.

 

I’m so rarely here on Friday –

It’s our day to watch the grands,

But my husband, with a virus,

Wasn’t up to those demands.

 

Which is why I’m out here, sitting

With the sunshine on my face.

Though I miss the kids like crazy,

This is time I will embrace.

 

Just pedestrians and pigeons,

With some canines on the squad,

Are my afternoon companions

On the east side promenade.

500 Pounds of Pasta

Along a Jersey creek, somebody

Made a crazy find –

500 pounds of pasta had been

Somehow left behind.

 

Whoever dumped the noodles

(Mainly elbows and spaghetti)

Isn’t known, but word got out and

There was lots of wordplay ready.

 

“Pastabilities were endless,”

Was reported and, as well,

“The perpetrators need

The penne-tentiary,” I heard tell.

 

My favorite was the mastermind

Whose capture is the aim.

Though it might be just an alias,

Al Dente is his name.

I Used To

I used to love to shop the mall

And check out every store.

At Yankee games, I’d track each ball

And carefully keep score.

 

I used to watch new movies when,

In theaters, they first aired.

On Broadway, I’d catch shows and then,

Opinions were compared.

 

I used to visit countries where

I’d wander through the streets

And with my husband, we would share

Some European treats.

 

I used to think those times would last,

But now, alas, they’re in the past.

The Rolling Stool

At the doctor’s to check out my knee,

While I waited until he was free,

I glanced up and took note

At a sign someone wrote,

Which was more a command than a plea.

 

It said, “Please do not roll on the stool.”

That’s where doctors would sit, as a rule.

Now did some misbehave,

Roll and rant in a rave,

Thinking doing just that would be cool?

 

I admit that on seeing the sign,

That desire somehow became mine,

But I’d sure be abashed

If I rolled and I crashed,

So temptation I had to decline.

Mother Goose's Party

Here at Mother Goose’s party

Jack and Jill have just arrived.

Small Bo Peep and Jack be Nimble

Came to greet them and high-fived

 

While Miss Muffet, busy eating,

Found a spider in her whey.

Even though ‘twas itsy-bitsy,

Humpty Dumpty saved the day.

 

Georgie Porgie went in search of

Little Jack among the sheep.

He was eating Christmas pie right near

Boy Blue, who was asleep.

 

As the cat was entertaining

With his fiddle ‘neath the moon,

Some big cow jumped over, looking

For a missing dish and spoon.

 

There were hot cross buns a’plenty

Selling down by London Bridge.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,

Hoped to taste one – just a smidge.

 

Old King Cole made an appearance,

Peter Piper by his side.

Three blind mice played pat-a-cake

While Tommy Tucker ran to hide.

 

It was quite a festive evening

“Til the striking of the clock,

All to honor Mother Goose

And all the members of her flock.

*Today is officially Mother Goose Day