After a Hiatus

After a hiatus
Getting back to your routine
Feels both strange and yet familiar
Or more likely, in-between.

So today I took the subway
‘Cause my quilting class begins.
I’d forgotten how the crowds get,
Bumping knees and toes and shins.

But at last I reunited
With my classmates, what a treat!
And arrived in time for claiming
What I think of as “my” seat.

It’s a pleasure to return to
Someplace where you feel at ease
Though when there is a hiatus,
There can be no guarantees.

An Outing

I was writing by the river
On a bench within the shade
When I noticed that approaching was
A nursing home brigade.

Some in wheelchairs, others walking
With companions giving aid,
All were elderly and wrinkled;
Every head of hair had grayed.

So they sat there by the water
As the breezes ricocheted
And they soaked up all the sunshine
For the hour that they stayed.

When the leader gave the signal,
There were none who disobeyed
But I wondered if, among them,
There were those who felt betrayed.

Reaching Out

If we can’t manage face to face,
There still are ways of touching base.
Email, snail mail, text or phone
Help to make us less alone.

Though, of course, when we reach out,
An answer’s what it’s all about.
When none comes through, we wonder why,
Especially as time goes by.

The end result is we are left
Annoyed, let down or else bereft
Which makes me think those touch-base tools
Are used by masochists or fools.

In a Hurry

Chipmunks scamper, dash and scurry,
Creatures always in a hurry.
If they'd learn to just relax
They'd bypass chipmunk heart attacks.

But type-A humans can relate;
We have to move and hate to wait.
Let others plod and take it slow;
Like chipmunks, we must go-go-go!

In the Sunshine

Here I sit in sunshine
While a thousand miles away,
My relatives in Florida
Are under Irma's* sway.

My sister lost her power
More than seven hours ago
While my aunt and cousin in the west
Are waiting, lying low.

It's so strange to know disaster
Is occurring in a place
Where your family or friends are,
Very far from your home base.

So I check in with a phone call
Or a quick and simple text
While I sit here in the sunshine
And I wonder what comes next.

*a category 4 hurricane

My Companion

A writer needs a place to write
With comfort, peace and quiet,
Or that is what I've heard, at least;
Some day I'd like to try it.

We all make do with what we have
And noise is my companion,
Surrounding and entrenching me
Like echoes in a canyon.

I tune it out, though it be traffic,
Radio or siren,
The kinds of things that likely
Never bothered Poe or Byron.

Not being in their league, of course,
(And barely well-regarded)
My thoughts still make it to the page
Though noise has me bombarded.

The Key

If you've ever been with someone
In a pout or cranky mood,
Or one whose sheer exhaustion
Is in every bone imbued...

The key (which isn't guaranteed)
But might help, just a fraction,
Is a simple trick I've learned;
In just one word, it is - distraction!

A story or some brand-new facts
Or music good for dancing,
Some silliness or crafts or snacks
Can all be mood-enhancing.

This tip won't work in every case,
Though it's my deep belief
That if it does, you're sure to breathe
A sigh of great relief.