Congratulations

Congratulations mostly
Are for something that you've done - 
Got married or got published,
Had a daughter or a son.

Bought a home or bought a business,
Got promoted, passed the bar,
Won a big award, got hired,
Traded in or bought a car.

Yet since I've become a nana
(Second grandchild, newly born),
As I get congratulations,
I feel just a little torn.

I did nothing to deserve this - 
Just gave birth some years ago,
But I proudly will acknowledge
I have that new-nana glow.

So I'll gladly take the kisses
And the wishes and the praise
'Cause I've finally reached this milestone
After living all these days!

A Granddaughter for Me!

Tiny newborn baby girl
With your cool striped hat,
Looking right into my eyes –
Can you imagine that?

Do you recognize that I’m
Your nana? If you do,
Your brother’d let you know that I
Will love you through and through.

Of course, he’ll always be my boy
But you will be my girl.
If he’s the gold around my heart,
Then you will be the pearl.

So welcome, grandchild number two;
I’m thrilled that you are here.
We’ve waited nine long months for you
To finally appear!

The Underbelly

Walking on the subway platform, waiting for a train,
A movement just ahead did catch my eye.
A nice-sized rat was wrestling with a cracker bag and oh,
I startled everybody with my cry.

My husband joined me in the yell – instinctively, it seems.
The rat reared up but held onto his prize
And scampered further down the track, his treasure in his teeth,
Where no one stood to holler or despise.

A small old woman watched the scene and slowly shook her head,
Acknowledging not horror, but defeat.
“If people weren’t slobs, you know, the rats would disappear,
For we provide the garbage that they eat.”

The train approached; the woman headed where the rat remained,
Unbothered by the route that it had taken.
My spouse and I, who’d backed away, got on the train, relieved,
Though both of us were rather skeeved and shaken.

Fifty Cents an Hour

When I was a teen, to earn some cash
I babysat at night.
I watched their kids, they drove me home;
It all turned out all right.

My asking price was 50 cents
(An hour) if before
The clock struck midnight; then I could
Request a quarter more.

They often gave a tip besides,
Perhaps an extra buck,
So I could bring 5 dollars home
If I had any luck.

The going rate today, I heard,
Is 12 an hour or more.
The earnings from a single night
Add up to quite a score.

They do not get a bonus, though,
If parents stay out late,
A point of pride when for that raise,
I did negotiate.

Front Door

Visit a place where you’ve not been before
And the first thing you face is the sturdy front door.
Of fiberglass, oak, tempered glass, even steel,
The entryway should have a certain appeal.

My country home door, though, was streaky with rust.
The paint was all puckered, the cracks filled with dust.
The glass in the windows no longer got clean;
My husband was tired of changing the screen.

So I finally gave in and we got a new door,
A portal to spiff up the entry décor.
It isn’t embellished, just simple and plain
But it’s neat, a condition I hope to maintain.

When visitors come, they may notice or not
For most likely, the old one was one they forgot
But I’ll welcome them all with the door opened wide
And embrace every one that I usher inside.

Scorecard

At a minor league ball game
I follow each play
And fill out my scorecard
The proper-like way.

I notate each player,
His number and place,
Recording the strikeouts
Or hits to which base.

I utilize shortcuts,
Like strikeout is K
And BB's a walk
(Base on balls, as they say).

I enjoy keeping track
Though not once will I look
At the jottings that I
Oh, so carefully took.  

But if someone discovered
My program one day,
They could picture each inning
And here's what they'd say:

Ah, if only our lives
Had a scorecard, we'd bet
Every K, hit or homer
We'd never forget!

Screened-In

From gnats and moths and things unseen,
I am protected by a screen.
Mosquitoes land and flit away,
Defeated for another day.

Where once a citronella torch
Repelled some pests, my screened-in porch
Works better for, as you'd surmise,
It's quite a lovely compromise...

I'm not indoors nor am I out.
The breeze dispels each shred of doubt;
Yet insects cannot reach my skin
Or that of others, safe within.

They fling themselves against the mesh
In search of juicy human flesh,
But I'm untouched inside my lair
Unless the screen sustains a tear!