A Midsummer Night's Dream

In 7^th grade English, my class got to read,

With Mrs. Kaminsky, my first

Taste of Shakespeare, the dream of “A Midsummer Night”

And for weeks we were fully immersed.

 

We couldn’t have done it alone, without help –

The language and style, to us

Was a challenge and yet with our teacher to guide,

We sailed through it without too much fuss.

 

I’d need a refresher to dig out the plot

From the recesses deep in my brain,

Though the love of the language and what it inspired,

Front and center, to this day, remain.

 

My grandson just told me (he’s 7^th grade now)

That in school, with his class, he’ll soon start

The very same play, his first Shakespeare, as well,

And that knowledge tapped into my heart.

 

I hope I can find my old copy from school,

Which is scribbled with jottings I wrote

When, to 7^th grade me, the idea of a grandson

Was more than remotely remote.

The Saturday Crossword

I finished a Saturday crossword,*

The hardest one offered each week.

It took me a while

But earned me a smile 

And the constant reminder I seek

That my brain cells, although I am aging,

Are still functioning well enough to

Fill in all of the squares

That some person prepares

So we solvers can track down each clue.

It’s a sense of accomplishment, truly;

Other puzzlers know just what I mean.

Though we do it alone,

We are, each of us, prone

To a chance to internally preen.

*last Saturday’s New York Times puzzle,

solved today