One by one, the second graders
Marched
up to the mic,
Masked
and costumed, though no two
Were
dressed at all alike.
For
each wore something – shirt or hat
Or
giant oaktag sign
To
illustrate the word that he
Or
she had to define.
Class
by class they stated names
And
proudly said their word,
Then
used it in a sentence
Until
everyone was heard.
Their
smiles were ample proof that all
Their
efforts were rewarded,
But
what was best was I could see it,
Since
it was recorded.
It seems a tugboat has a choice
When dealing with a barge -
To push it or to pull it
And I wonder who’s in charge
Of making that decision
Or what factors are in play.
Is pushing better sometimes?
I don’t know enough to say.
Most often when I see a tug
It’s chugging right behind
The barge or boat it’s pushing
And it doesn’t seem to mind.
Yet earlier today I saw
A tugboat in the lead,
Pulling piles of huge containers,
An accomplishment, indeed.
For that tug was proudly doing
Lots of tugging, like its name.
When it pushes from behind, to me,
It isn’t quite the same.
Today I’m watching tennis –
It’s
the Open set in France –
And
while I cheered my favorites
As
they won and could advance…
It
struck me that it’s D-Day
And
in 1944,
The
Allies, under Ike,
Attacked
the Nazis in the war.
They
stormed the beach at Normandy
In
a surprise attack.
Though
many died, the tide was turned,
The
enemy turned back.
In
France right now, the focus
Is
on what is current news –
The
Covid curfew and the players
Giving
interviews.
But
on the beach at Normandy
Some
veterans still met
To
honor those who gave their lives
Whom
we should not forget.
I learned, real young, when getting dressed –
Make
sure your clothes are matching.
To
such advice, back then, not many
People
were detaching.
Some
colors clashed with others;
Plaids
and prints would never click.
Though
styles have changed, those matching rules
Are
ones that seemed to stick.
Not
everybody follows them –
You
know those certain types
Who
strut around with polka dots
Worn
right along with stripes.
I’ve
got to give them credit,
For
if fashion rules are broken,
It
means an inner voice (though strong
And
clueless) must have spoken.
I always wonder at the folks
Who do not follow rules,
Who violate the status quo,
Think followers are fools.
A traffic light that’s red? Who cares?
No motorbikes allowed?
Let’s speed along where people walk
And blast our music LOUD!
A flight attendant wanting me
To sit here with a mask?
I’ll knock her teeth out; maybe then,
She’ll be afraid to ask.
A bicycle chained up outside?
The owner’s not around,
So I can take it for myself
And show off what I’ve found.
The list can just go on and on;
This stuff just isn’t right,
Yet more and more we’re powerless
To stand our ground and fight.
When rules are made and put in place,
What used to be expected
Was that they would be followed
And not nastily rejected.
We
bought our son a globe way back
When
he was just a boy.
He
loved to learn; we thought it would
Be
something he’d enjoy.
He
spun it ‘round from time to time
To
find a certain place,
But
it’s been years since anyone
Has
moved it from its space.
Until
today, when carefully
I
took it from its shelf
And
after wiping off the dust,
I
spun it ‘round myself.
Some
countries’ names are different now
From
ones they one time had
But
my grandkids might enjoy this globe
That once engrossed their dad.
There is nothing as good as a hug.
It
works better than any known drug
And
especially now
When
conditions allow
Some
emergence from holes we have dug.
For
no matter how much we’re on Zoom
A
caress from a separate room
Is
so different from real
That
we really can’t feel
The
emotions a squeeze can exhume.
This
pandemic’s kept loved ones apart
And
I’m grateful that I can now start
Seeing
friends face to face
In
a squishing embrace
Which
unlocks what’s been trapped in my heart.
