It lay atop a garbage can,
A
pillow, brightly red,
Which
showed a beat who held a heart
And
this is what it said:
“I
love you,” stitched in bold white print.
It
stopped me in my tracks;
For
in someone’s relationship,
There
must have been some cracks.
Who
tosses out a gift of love
Unless
affection’s gone?
A
fling upon a trash heap means
It’s
time now to move on.
That
pillow, looking so forlorn,
Once
graced a couch or bed
But
now it calls attention
To
the what-once-was instead.
She pushes a shopping cart, loaded with seed,
On
paths by the river and park
And
tosses out handfuls, believing she’ll feed
Every
pigeon and sparrow and lark.
The
pigeons swoop down, crowding railing and bench
As
they jostle to get their fair share
And
if anyone wants to sit down, well, the stench
Of
the droppings says they shouldn’t dare.
Yet
the lady with bird seed, she cares not a whit
For
the humans, but does she know that
All
the seed she distributes gives squirrels a hit
In
addition to each local rat?
The
creatures of cities don’t need to be fed;
They’re
industrious, savvy and slick.
So
I look at the seeds that this lady has spread
And
I wonder just what makes her tick.
Had to get some blood work
As
my doctor did demand
So
I walked up to the lab
With
my appointment in my hand.
A
few were there before me
As
we checked in one by one.
They
would text when they were ready;
I
could wait out in the sun.
My
cell phone beeped; I went inside
Where
others sat in chairs.
“Appointment
lady!” I was called,
Eliciting
some stares.
I
guess most folks were walk-ins;
My
appointment really paid.
With
some clicks on the computer,
They,
too, might have made the grade.
A pencil, a notebook,
A
random reflection
Determine
the course
Of
a poem, its direction.
The
words hop on board
Heading
hither and yonder
While
thoughts make decisions
To
settle or wander.
Ideas
tumble down
Joining
rhythm in moving
As
verses flesh out,
Sometimes
dancing and grooving.
The
final result, whether
Failed
or successful,
Is
like an elixir
For
soothing the stressful.
For my second Covid birthday
Nature
surely did its duty
For
providing me (and others)
With
a day of perfect beauty.
Did
my early morning walking
As
the sun began to rise,
Hearing
birds belt out their greetings
Under
glowing orange skies.
Spent
the afternoon just strolling
Through
the paths of Central Park,
Where
the trees are all a’blossom
After
months of being dark.
There
were bicycles and children
And
musicians on the sax,
Also
joggers, dogs and picnics;
It
was time to just relax.
I
could see the city waking
From
its sad pandemic dream.
There’s
a long way left to go
But
slowly, hope is gaining steam.
Now
I’m back beside the river,
On
a bench beneath the sun,
Feeling
happy on my birthday
And
the day is still not done!
The calendar says April
But it’s winter once again,
Although the bulbs are up and bears
Have likely left the den.
I bundled up to take my walk
With scarf and gloves and hood,
Not attired for the season
As I would have thought I should.
It’s a poke by Mother Nature,
A reminder we should not
Get complacent for what we expect
Might not be what we’ve got.
A modicum of power
Is important for esteem
For everyone, at times, should be
The captain of the team.
When someone always grabs the reins
And claims to be in charge,
The space between that someone
And those left behind looms large.
Just being in control
Of even something rather small
Can make one feel that he or she
Is in nobody’s thrall.
