Fires Up in Canada

Fires up in Canada

Have forced my plans to change.

It’s really most annoying

But it’s also rather strange.

It proves that we’re connected 

In some ways we may not like

And there’s no way to prepare

For when more bad effects will strike.

I would have thought that distance

From the blazes raging there

Would have saved us here from breathing

That unwelcome awful air.

But that thinking doesn’t follow

Since, much more than I’d expected,

The world is shrinking and, for good or bad,

We’re all connected.

A Building Going Up

A building’s going up across

The river and I find

Though I’ve watched it be constructed,

Still, it really blows my mind.

Where once was just some empty space,

The crew and all their cranes 

Have built a massive structure;

Now no empty space remains.

I don’t know how they do it

But it’s rising really fast,

The view forever altered,

For that building’s meant to last.

It doesn’t t block the river -

Well, at least from where I sit,

Though the residents who live behind it

Might just have a fit

Since this brand-new edifice appears

To 99%

Cause all those unlucky souls to wonder

Where the river went.

On the Sidewalk

The homeless guy was stretched out

On the sidewalk, looking dead,

In stocking feet without, much less,

A cushion for his head.

 

The passersby all stopped to look

But then went on their way,

Another small annoyance which

Would mar their busy day.

 

Though I didn’t really want to

Interfere or get involved,

I called the city hotline,

Knowing nothing would be solved.

 

A round of questions followed,

Then they told me help would come.

I walked away for other people

Stayed to beat the drum.

 

A little while later

I passed by that spot again.

No one was on the ground but there

Was no cause for Amen.

 

For there across the street he sat,

Propped up by building bricks,

Not appearing any better,

Just a temporary fix.

Bodega Cat

Bodega Cat protects the store

For rodents would think twice

Before they’d squeeze through cracks or door –

That goes for rats and mice.

 

I pass this market on my walk

Yet sometimes miss the cat.

Perhaps he’s hiding or mid-stalk –

Who knows where he is at?

 

At times he sits outside and stares

But leaves if someone nears.

I do not think he really cares

How haughty he appears.

 

Bodega cats have jobs to do;

They aren’t there to pet,

For if a mouse comes sneaking through,

He’ll perish with regret.

Camp

At camp, we braided lanyards

And spent hours in the pool.

We both dressed and acted differently

From when we were in school.

 

We played kickball, softball, newcomb

And rehearsed the yearly play,

Plus did arts & crafts and puzzles,

Mostly on a rainy day.

 

Once or twice throughout the summer

We would take a trip to town

For a movie or for bowling

Or to scarf some ice cream down.

 

It was low-key, sweet and simple

With no shooting for the moon,

Just a bunch of kids and counselors

‘Til the early afternoon.

 

What a far cry from what’s offered

Nowadays, but guaranteed

All those fancy bells and whistles

Are much more than campers need.

Breakfast for the Ducks

Near the fountain stands the male

In iridescent glory,

But his mate begins this tale,

A true Manhattan story.

 

These same ducks have made their home

Outside a high-rise building.

I see them swim or sleep or roam;

The truth requires no gilding.

 

This morning, early, as he waits,

The female, with intention

Of what she now anticipates,

Insists on prompt attention.

 

She marches right up to the door,

By which a doorman’s standing

And opens up her beak to score

The meal she is demanding.

 

In full regalia, he complies

And grabs a baggie waiting,

Then shoos some pigeons to the skies,

Their hope for food deflating.

 

He sprinkles breakfast for the pair,

Who gustily start eating

And I walk on so I can share

This urban morning meeting.

Points of Solace

We visited friends by the shore

And as soon as we opened the door

The crash of each wave

And the ocean view gave

Me some insight I’d not had before.

 

For though I have a different view,

From my bench I can see water, too

And the river, to me,

Is what will guarantee

That my spirits will lift, as on cue.

 

If we’re lucky, we all get to find

Someplace special to help us unwind.

Whether river or waves

Every one of us craves

Points of solace by which we’re defined.

A Baby’s Born

A baby's born and no one knows

How life will treat him as he grows.

Parents nurture and protect,

Not knowing what they can expect.

There’ll be problems, joys and tears

Scattered through the passing years,

Every milestone firmly etched

More than all the times he kvetched.

Childhood days will somehow end

And time together you did spend

Will disappear into the past,

Your baby an adult at last.

This knowledge might just give you pause.

I think of this today because 

This is the date my now-grown son

Was born, our family just begun.

The Real You

On my early morning walks

I dress in workout clothes,

A baseball cap and old wire specs,

For comfort, I suppose.

 

I pass some people every day

Yet there are just a few

With whom I share a smile or wave;

Of names, I have no clue.

 

They must live in the neighborhood,

But never do we meet

Except for when we exercise;

Today, though on the street

 

I passed a walking “friend”

And recognition went both ways.

We laughed and then she said,

“It’s the real you!” and, in her gaze,

 

I understood just what she meant.

With earrings, clogs and jeans

And round blue glasses, I look different

From our morning scenes.

 

Of course, she, too, looked different

But I’m glad we could reveal

To each other that persona

That the world would see as “real.”

First Day of Summer

It’s the first day of summer,

But feeling like fall,

The chilliest solstice

That I can recall.

Now, I’m not complaining;

I like when it’s cool,

But for June 21st

It is not quite the rule.

As I sit by the river,

My sweatshirt is zipped.

(I had looked at the weather

And came well-equipped.)

It’s an overcast day

With a vigorous breeze.

Mother Nature has no one

She has to appease.

I’m enjoying the chill

For I know very soon

That the weather will feel

More like typical June.

A Little Light

In between the angst and stress

There comes a little light,

Which lifts your spirits so you think 

That things will be all right.

A sunny day, a lovely breeze,

Or visit from a friend

Can bring happiness from deep within,

The kind you hope won’t end.

Of course it will, but with this boost

You’re good to go for now

And hopefully, you’ll find another

Little light somehow.

Limited

Decisions are much easier

When choices that you face

Are limited enough that you

Find one you can embrace.

For when so many options

Are presented, you might find

It all so overwhelming that

You’re really in a bind.

You weigh the pros and cons of each

And then you might get stuck

Or possibly be tempted 

(If you can) to pass the buck.

I like when my selections

Narrow down to A or B,

Which makes making a decision 

Much less filled with stress for me.

Fathers' Day 2023

My father is gone but my husband’s around,

As well as my kids and the grands,

So we made up a plan we’d link up for the day

As the calendar kind of demands.

 

Just some time in the house to spend shooting the breeze,

Catching up with a book and some songs,

Then a trip to the playground for running around

All together, as family belongs.

 

Who needs presents or barbecue, flowers or beer

To mark what is a made-up event?

For an afternoon joined with the ones that you love

Is the way Fathers’ Day should be spent.

Stuck in a Maze

We used to hop into the car

And, thinking back seems so bizarre,

We would drive, never slow

To the place where we’d go

And we’d get there, no matter how far.

 

We would always find places to park

In the daylight and also the dark.

With reliable wheels

We would know how it feels

To take off someplace, just for a lark.

 

But today is a different scene.

All you drivers know just what I mean,

For despite having WAZE

You’ll be stuck in a maze

Since the traffic is really obscene.

 

So, if thinking of taking a ride,

Either take all the traffic in stride

Or resort to Plan B

Which is, take it from me,

Much less stressful – it’s staying inside!

The Rule of Law

A lie is a lie and a fact is a fact

But between them are traps that are waiting

For the people against whom the odds have been stacked

Who have nothing to live for but hating.

So they flock to the sites where they see someone strong

And join in to inflate their own standing

For the human desire to want to belong

Sometimes bows to a tyrant’s commanding.

Thus the law takes a blow and must battle a threat

To its reason for even existing

And the hope’s that there still are enough of us yet

To stave off our demise by resisting.

The Driver's Seat

When you are in the driver’s seat

You get to reach your goal

The way you want; the route you take

Is one that you control.

 

The same applies to journeys

Metaphorical in scope.

If you’re in charge and others ask

To help, you can say, Nope!

 

Until you start to realize

What was easy now is not.

Some actions may require more

Than maybe you have got.

 

There’s no harm in requesting aid

Though it is bittersweet

When age or health decides it’s time

To leave the driver’s seat.

My Students

Within a bag of teaching stuff

I saved when I retired

Were notes and poems by students

To a teacher they admired.

 

How gratified I felt to read

I’d opened many eyes

To poetry and novels

(Even grammar – no surprise!)

 

Those students were in middle school

So now they’re all adults.

I wonder if my teaching

Had some tangible results.

 

No way to really know, but still,

I hope they love to read

And if they write some poetry,

I’ve done my job, indeed.

Top Secret

My bathroom isn’t big enough

For boxes filled with files,

Though someone’s bathroom we all know

Has cartons stacked in piles.

 

The government’s top secrets

Share a space, perhaps, with Charmin,

Or Renuzit, Dove or Lysol,

All incredibly alarmin.’

 

For the guests at Mar-a-Largo,

If a bathroom they were needing,

We must hope they didn’t poke around

In search of some light reading.

Views

I like to read the Real Estate

To see what money buys.

Of course, I’m never moving 

But it’s fun to fantasize.

This week’s had an apartment 

That there’s no way I would choose

Since the “Cons” in the description 

Listed “underwhelming views.”

To pay that kind of money

What would mean a lot to me

Would be looking out the windows

Feeling whelmed by what I’d see.

The Pledge of Allegiance

Now, why a meeting of adults

Should open with the pledge

Is something that feels wrong to me

And sets my teeth on edge.

 

As children, we recited it

Assembly days in school

And when I taught, each morning

In the classroom was the rule.

 

Just like the anthem, kids should learn

The words that we recite

On those occasions when it is

Appropriate and right.

 

To me, a meeting of the board

Where I retain a home

Is not one of those times and that’s

The reason for this poem.

On My Bench

 People amble, stroll or strut 

To get some air or maybe

To do some chores or kill some time 

Or walk with a new baby.

Still, others jog or run as fast

As feet allow (that’s very!),

Perhaps for exercise, but likely

Just to catch the ferry.

How You Live

In life, some get to have a feast

While others get the crumbs.

The same applies to man or beast;

To fate, each one succumbs.

While many factors are involved,

Like schools and DNA,

At birth, one’s future’s not resolved

For there is more at play:

The circumstances of the home 

And family where you’re stuck,

Your health, your friends and where you roam,

Plus, most important - luck.

These all add up to how you live

And how you’ll learn to deal.

Deciding what to take or give

May prep you for your meal.

The Swimsuit Issue

Martha’s* on the cover

Of a famous magazine,

Her cleavage in her bathing suit

Just waiting to be seen.

 

At 81 years old, she is

The oldest woman yet

To grace the swimsuit issue,

Posing like a young coquette.

 

I just don’t understand it, though –

What message is conveyed?

That age won’t hinder beauty

When it’s sexily displayed?

 

To me, that’s just obnoxious,

For a getting older perk

Is accepting that pretending

To be young just doesn’t work.

 

*Martha Stewart is on the cover of

Sports Illustrated’s annual swimsuit issue.

Orangey Skies

If you’re heading outside for a task,

Just forget it. And why, you might ask?

For in New York, the air

Is so bad you don’t dare

To leave home without wearing a mask.

 

The day looks as dark as the night

And the smell tells you something’s not right,

So it’s best now to hide

And keep staying inside

With your windows completely shut tight.

 

Though it seems like we’re under a curse

And the atmosphere can’t get much worse,

Life is filled with surprise

For these orangey skies

Have provided a subject for verse.

Unhealthy Air

I’m sitting in unhealthy air;

The sky is filled with haze

From fires up in Canada,

With acres still ablaze.

 

This morning’s sun was glorious,

An orange-pinkish ball,

Resulting from the smoke but still

Admired and snapped by all.

 

It’s apropos because today

In 1944

The Normandy invasion

Turned the tide to change the war.

 

Those soldiers suffered more than just

The quality of air

And fewer people every year

Know of the battles there.

 

So here I am on D-Day

Thinking of that sacrifice

As I sit and breathe unhealthy air

Against some good advice.

Rooting

To watch something competitive

You have to pick a side,

With someone you can root for

And with whom you feel allied.

 

It could be sports or politics

Or various awards

Or venues like Medieval Times

Where knights wield shields and swords.

 

For when we are invested

In the outcome and we root,

Excitement bubbles up and often

Joy will follow suit.

 

It’s fun to cheer our favorites on

For even if they lose,

Absorption in the chase replaces

Boredom or the blues.

Pre-Auction

In my neighborhood, there is

A well-known auction space

Where items are displayed before

The auction will take place.

 

It’s open to the public, so

Today we went to see

Some very famous songs composed

By Freddie Mercury.

 

So cool to see, in his own hand,

With doodles on the page,

The lyrics which I’ve heard

A thousand times, which still engage.

 

Why he crossed out “Mongolian”

Is anybody’s guess.

Was “Bohemian” with “Rhapsody”

More likely to impress?

 

The auction house had other

Special things to gaze upon

Before the day the auctioneer

Says, “Going, going, gone!”

The French Sans Rafa

The red clay’s staining all the socks,

But Rafa’s aren’t there

And yet, his fourteen titles

Still remain beyond compare.

 

Most years he gets to celebrate

His birthday at the French.

Today, though, he’s not on the court

Or even on the bench.

 

Perhaps his little surgery

Will fix him up like new

So all his fans (like me!) can watch

Him do what he can do.

 

To Rafael Nadal, I wish

A happy birthday day

And a quick recovery so you

Can get back out and play.

On That Note

Two tales of note regarding notes:

I watched my grandson’s band

And thought it was amazing, so 

To take those thoughts in hand 

I sent a little email

To the teacher, so she’d know

She deserved appreciation

For a well-delivered show.

She responded right away and seemed

Delighted I’d reached out.

A little note can lift one like

A whisper, not a shout.

The second note was written by

A doctor who’d not shown

For an early-morn appointment 

(And his office didn’t phone).

The note was an apology;

He had a touch of flu

His toddler twins had passed to him,

As children often do.

That correspondence made me think

That notes, today so rare,

Don’t take a lot of effort

But let people know you care.

Pretending

I’m pretending I’m a tourist 

Looking through a stranger’s eyes,

So the sights I’ve not seen lately 

Almost come as a surprise.

On the ferry, ‘stead of reading 

I gazed out at all we passed,

Noting all the newer buildings

Where construction happened fast.

Now I’m waiting by the ferry slip

To people-watch - such fun!

Though as far as natives go, I might

Just be the only one.

Since I haven’t traveled lately,

This is close as I can get.

Still, I’d rather be a tourist

Someplace I’ve not been to yet.