Preying in the City

Bodega cat crept to the curb

And crouched down by a car,

His ins and outs encouraged

By a door that’s left ajar.

He stared intently underneath

The chassis, but to me,

There was no mouse or bird

Or other creature I could see.

I thought I’d stick around to watch,

In case he found some prey,

But realized if I saw him pounce,

It might just spoil my day.

So I continued on and left him

To complete his stalk,

While I did what I always do

And finished up my walk.

Bluster

While sitting outside in the park

I notice the dogs that will bark

Are the ones whose small size

Makes their outrage unwise

And effective as shots in the dark.

 

As the bigger dogs trot quickly by

All that bluster, in ample supply,

Goes unnoticed and yet,

Every tiniest pet

Thinks his prowess is hard to deny.

Internal Codes

We each have an internal code

Of things we wouldn’t do

And some of what I’d never try

Might not apply to you.

 

The same is true for things I’d do

That maybe you would not.

We tend to follow rules we’ve made

That vary not a lot.

 

Though I might cross against the light

While others wait for green,

I’d never cut a line or leave

Before the table’s clean.

 

Our codes, established early on,

Are often set for good

And most attempts to change will fail

In any likelihood.

Hot!

What to do when it’s really hot

Is garden in a sunny spot

So that your mind can melt and rot

Or go for a ten-mile bike ride - not!

Instead, it’s best to stay inside,

The A/C on so you can hide

And take the outdoor heat in stride,

Attempts to fry your brain denied.

For temps so high just aren’t meant,

At least not quite to this extent,

To live in, so we circumvent 

The weather Mother Nature sent.

Delusional

A woman quite delusional

Believes, beyond the pale,

Obama and her dad were friends

And yes, she went to Yale.

 

Her son’s employed at Apple

Though he’s only twelve years old

And she’s so convincing when she talks,

Some listeners are sold.

 

She’s flying to D.C. today

For meetings to attend

As a video consultant;

Oh, the stories never end.

 

Though looking normal, it is clear

Her mind is not quite right

And if any would dare challenge her,

She’s ready for a fight.

 

Delusions keep some going,

Though I’ll never understand

How they reach the point reality’s

So far from their command.

Short

There are days with such strange things

You never could describe,

No matter how adept or polished

Is the willing scribe.

And on those days, it’s better just

To keep the writing short

Instead of getting into

All that there is to report.

Filled with Fungi

So many mushrooms have sprung up

I’ve never seen before.

My yard is filled with fungi 

In varieties galore.

The bright red flat ones you can’t miss,

The tall ones, creamy white;

The brownish kind with puffy tops,

The beige of little height.

Some tiny yellows try to hide 

Near coppers like a penny.

In prior years with not much rain,

I don’t remember any.

I wonder if they’re poisonous.

If so, I’ll never know it,

For only store-bought fungi

Will be eaten by this poet. 

Taking Down Trees

Between two houses on my street,

There is a plot of land 

Where many trees have towered,

Just as Nature must have planned.

But ribbons tied around the trunks 

Appeared out of the blue 

And now today, what showed up 

Was an excavating crew.

The chain saws bit into the bark

With their annoying sound,

Then a backhoe pushed and boom!

The trees went crashing to the ground.

How sad to see these trees destroyed;

It can’t be helped, albeit

When land was cleared to build my house,

I’m glad I didn’t see it.

Inside My Head

Inside my head are facts I’ve learned,

Some useful, others not

And mem’ries to which I’ve returned

That I’ve enjoyed a lot.

Inside my head my brain is filled,

With no more room to spare,

So just like milk that someone spilled,

New input’s just not there.

No matter what I read or hear

That I wish to retain,

It seems to quickly disappear,

Like water down the drain.

Tony Bennett and Lady Gaga

When Tony Bennett sang

With Lady Gaga, a duet,

The entertainment level

Was as cool as it could get.

The difference in their ages mattered

Not one little bit

Since their voices, both exquisite,

Did magnificently knit.

But best of all, their friendship

And their mutual respect 

Had, on everyone who watched them,

A most powerful effect.

News of Tony Bennett’s passing 

Means that golden sound is gone,

But at least his voice and videos 

With Gaga will live on.

Spiking the Nest

In order to discourage birds

From building nearby nests,

Some owners place a row of spikes

To bar unwanted guests.

But crows and magpies, cleverly,

Uproot those spiky things 

And use them in the homes they make

To shelter those with wings.

The very tools that humans thought

Would keep the birds at bay,

Our feathered friends employ

To keep their enemies away.

 

Waking at Night

I wake at night and check the clock

And oftentimes I am in shock

To see how little time has passed,

The stretch ahead prolonged and vast.

 

I’ll wake again and maybe more,

Discouraged as I was before

To know the morning’s far away

And sleep won’t hold me in its sway.

 

A friend, however, wakes up, too,

Yet she maintains a different view.

She loves the fact that hours await

For her to sleep and wake up late.

 

In one way, though, we are the same

And know exactly what’s to blame

For interrupted sleep, you see,

And that’s the nighttime need to pee.

Dealing with Healing

When we’re dealing with healing,

It’s very revealing

To show how we’re feeling because

 

As time keeps on drifting

And cells may be shifting,

Our mood might be lifting its claws.

 

Acceptance and practice

To deal with what whacked us

Can help to distract us and pause

 

All the negative notions

(Of which there are oceans)

To hopeful emotions. Applause!

Yoga Pants

I bought a pair of yoga pants

Without the slightest urge

To practice yoga, but it wasn’t 

Too much of a splurge.

Reminds me of some other clothes

Designed for active wear.

My ski coat’s never seen the slopes

And I don’t really care.

I walk around in running shoes

And in my baseball cap,

I’ve never hit a long ball

Into any outfield gap.

I even owned some cowboy boots

But never rode a horse

And my husband wouldn’t dare to wear

A “wife beater,” of course!

Enhancements

There are surgeries for bigger boobs

And bigger butts, as well

As implants meant for males to thus

Enhance their size and swell.

An article that I just read

(New Yorker Magazine)

Described such a procedure

And the problems often seen.

Why someone’d choose to surgically

Enlarge, for ego’s sake,

A body part that functions 

Seems to me a huge mistake.

An Ode to Dr. D

In modern times, it’s oh, so rare,

To find a doc who seems to care,

Yet I’ve met one beyond compare

And that is Dr. D.*

 

He’s patient, kind and oh, so smart.

What really makes him stand apart

Is his compassion, from the heart;

No one would disagree.

 

The oath he took says, “Do no harm”

And lucky, when I broke my arm,

His knowledge, expertise and charm

Were (yay!) bestowed on me.

 

*Dr. Aleksey Dvorzhinskiy

A Pat on the Back

When you’re anxious ‘bout something,

Just give it a crack

And you might end up earning

A pat on the back.

 

For nerves can wreak havoc

And fill you with doubt

So you think you’ll be stuck

With no easy way out.

 

It’s much safer to cancel

Or stop ‘fore you start

If your fear of disaster

May tear you apart.

 

But if you can breathe deeply

And step up and try,

Things might just work out well

And you’ll feel such a high

 

That you’ll wonder why you

Gave yourself so much flak

When what you now deserve

Is a pat on the back.

A Dash of DNA

A dash of DNA decides

The color of our eyes

And probably our hair and skin

And possibly our size.

 

Genetics, though, is just a part

Of who we grow to be,

For many other factors count,

Each one to some degree.

 

Our family life, our neighborhood,

Our friends, religion, schools,

All help determine how we’ll use

Our inborn molecules.

 

We learn from our experience;

So much of it holds sway

That overall it counts more than

That dash of DNA.

Food Shopping

When you go shopping, do you browse

And stroll up all the aisles,

Searching for surprising “Wows!”

That might elicit smiles?

 

Or do you clutch your list in hand

And check off every item

That’s always purchased as you planned

Each time, ad infinitum?

 

No matter how you shop, at least

When you’re back home, unpacking,

You’ll know that chances have increased

For some impromptu snacking.

Thanks for Nothing

The invitation spelled my name

“Eileen,” which I don’t do.

We’ve never met the bride and groom;

Her parents, though, we knew.

 

We skipped the wedding; sent a gift.

The thank you came today.

I laughed when I first read it;

This is what it had to say:

 

“Thank you very much for coming

To our wedding and, as well,

For the cookware set you gave us.”

Guess they couldn’t really tell

 

That among the many guests

Whose bodies added to the scene,

There were presents but no presence

Of the fictional “Eileen.”

Ancient Books

Today I saw some ancient books,

Five hundred plus years old,

With illustrations brightly hued

And accented in gold.

 

Calligraphied in perfect print,

They really blew my mind,

Surviving all these years

And waiting there for me to find.

 

On display within the Cloisters

And protected under glass,

Just a page or two is visible

To visitors who pass.

 

Yet I think of those who sat and toiled

By candlelight, now gone,

Who’d be shocked that centuries later

All their efforts still live on. 

Sound Check

My brother performs in a band;

Plays keyboards and part of his brand

Is to lighten the bass

For he likes to embrace

Treble notes, just the way he had planned.

 

But a sound check gave him a critique

That his bass came across kind of weak.

I said, “Being a rebel

Will get you in treble!”

Which brought smiles to us both, cheek to cheek.

Counting the Days

We make some plans and count the days

Until the date is nigh,

Which sometimes comes so fast we wonder

How the time slipped by.

 

Yet other times, impatiently,

We wait and wait and wait

And it seems like forever ‘til

That long-awaited date.

 

When something’s on the calendar

We long for or we dread,

We can’t do more than count the days

And wait for what’s ahead.

Tsuris

Without first-hand experience

We cannot comprehend

What others might be going through,

Although we can pretend

 

To understand the way they feel

As if we do belong

In circumstances similar;

If so, we would be wrong.

 

For everybody’s tsuris*

Is peculiar and unique,

Indescribable to others,

Though comparisons we seek.

 

We suffer in our different ways

And find our means to cope,

While some of us give up

As others cling to shreds of hope.

 

*Yiddish for trouble, woe or aggravation

Centre Court

Centre Court in England

Would take center stage in Queens.

The placement of the e and r

Reveals the way one leans.

The same applies to colors.

Seems that Brits are very fond

Of that u that colors do not have

On this side of the pond.

I recognize these differences

(In Britain recognise)

Should cause no offense/offence

In any English speaker’s eyes.

Limitations

We all have limitations

Which we fight or we accept,

But when new ones may confront us,

Notions that we’ve always kept

 

Might no longer help define us.

We might need a different view

Of the things we can accomplish,

Less than what we used to do.

 

If we’re lucky, it’s a setback

And we’ll find our former self,

After treatment and some patience,

Waiting calmly on the shelf.

A Bowl of Pits

Life is like a bowl of pits

From in the cherries someone spits

And though there are some juicy bits,

There aren’t quite enough.

 

For often things go very wrong

And even if you think you’re strong,

You find it’s hard to get along

When hit with painful stuff.

 

I’m feeling just a little sad

Because of incidents I’ve had.

I know that life’s not mostly bad

But man, it can be rough.

Trials Ahead

Lots of things I haven’t done

While I have been alive,

Yet there are trials ahead of me

Into which I must dive.

 

First and foremost, I must learn

To write with my left hand

And when you hear the reason

Maybe you will understand.

 

For up ‘til now, I never fell

And broke a bone I need.

Today I did and challenges

Await me, guaranteed.

The Soundtrack of “Hamilton”

The soundtrack of “Hamilton”

Gives me a lift

Which is better, to me,

Than a typical gift.

From the opening chords

(Which repeat several times),

I am steeped in delight

By the music and rhymes.

Sitting still’s not a choice

When the rapping begins

And no matter your tastes,

Every listener wins.

If you’ve somehow missed out,

Please take me at my word 

For the “Hamilton” songs 

Are the best you’ll have heard.

This Opportunity

My son was raised a city boy

But starting at age five,

We also had a country house;

In both, he seemed to thrive.

Yet he grew up and made his home

In neither one; instead,

A suburb of New York is where

His family goes to bed.

So it’s a thrill to spend some time 

With grandkids in each place 

Their father spent his childhood,

Hoping that they will embrace 

A little bit of what, perhaps,

Helped shape what made their dad.

I’m glad this opportunity 

Is one that I have had.

First Time at the Met

We took our grandson to the Met,

His very first time there,

A special day with him alone,

A circumstance quite rare.

 

We rode the bus from where we live,

To him an urban treat

And bought a New York pretzel

Just to make the day complete.

 

He’s almost 10 and reads a lot

So what he chose to see

Were Greek and Roman galleries

Filled with antiquity.

 

The subject matter fit right in

With books he races through.

Egyptian mummies also made

The cut for us to view.

 

Ironically, when passing by

The knights and swords display,

He had no interest, though his dad

Adored that in his day.

 

It’s wonderful to get to share

Such cool amazing art

With son and grandson, even if

It happened years apart.