The Empty Feeder

The backyard feeder for the birds 

Brought squirrels who, for sure,

Believed that with some cast-off seeds

They certainly would score.

For months that worked for everyone

Until that fateful day

I looked outside to see

That squirrels can be local prey.

For right below the feeder,

A coyote stood his ground,

Then grabbed a fresh-killed squirrel 

‘Fore he vanished with a bound.

I haven’t filled the feeder since 

Nor ventured out to sit,

But it’s so lovely weather-wise,

I’m outside for a bit.

As soon as I sat down, three birds 

Came swooping in for seed,

But with some squirrels realized

I had not fulfilled their need.

It’s sad that one coyote

Stole the pleasure we have missed,

Yet both predators and prey, I guess,

Both need to coexist.

Losing Things

Today I thought I lost my keys

And knowing what’s at stake,

I searched like crazy, but my husband

Took them by mistake.

 

An hour later, for a class

Of quilting, I was stopped

When my ruler disappeared

Until I noticed it had dropped.

 

The class complete, I headed

For a shady bench outside

To write my poem, but where’s

My favorite pencil gone to hide?

 

It isn’t in my bag

And always has a sharpened point.

I looked in each compartment;

Now I’m really out of joint.

 

A day like this with many things

I cannot seem to find

Makes me hope it’s not a warning

I’m about to lose my mind.

Noodle Kugel

Everybody’s noodle kugel

Varies in a way

And some taste just as different

As the night is to the day.

 

Most recipes were handed down,

A bit of family lore,

Or found in temple cookbooks,

Which have recipes galore.

 

I tried a few when searching

For the one I’d call my own,

Since the kugels of my grandmas

From my memory have flown.

 

But I hit upon the perfect one

And make it every year.

Not everybody loves it

But each piece will disappear

 

Since whatever’s left, I’ll wrap and freeze

So it won’t go to waste

And then, bit by bit, I’ll eat it

‘Cause it’s made to just my taste.

Tonight I'll Light Some Candles

Tonight I’ll light some candles

For some people who have died,

A custom on the holiday

To which I will abide.

 

I’m not religious, but, to me,

A ritual like this

Acknowledges the fact that there

Are those we truly miss.

 

Of course, besides my parents

There are others who have passed

Who were special in so many ways

Their memories hold fast.

 

Though they all don’t get a candle,

For the ones who’ve had to part,

There’s a little flame I’ll keep alive

Forever in my heart.

In Place

I’m not the type to lose things

And I hope that doesn’t change,

Although sometimes as we age

What’s in our minds may rearrange.

If everything gets put in place

Right after we have used it,

It should be there when needed next 

(Unless our brains confused it).

For those who toss possessions

Every time in different spots,

Finding items might be like 

A much less fun connect-the-dots.

But for neatniks or obsessives,

It becomes a little game.

Every shelf or drawer or closet 

Day by day remains the same.

Not a Fan

As much as I love music,

I’m not sorry to admit

That opera’s the exception,

For I like it not one bit.

It’s not that I don’t understand 

The words (although that’s true),

But rather it’s the voices

All the critics ballyhoo.

Sopranos, tenors, baritones - 

They all get on my nerves,

Then you toss in some vibrato 

(Which no audience deserves),

Add some overdone emoting,

Make-up way beyond the top

And the flashiest of costumes - 

I’d go on, but here I’ll stop.

Opera fans the whole world over

Are both cultured and refined,

But, though classical I covet,

Opera leaves me disinclined.

So Many People

So many people do things

That they don’t do very well.

The strangest part, to me, is that

They often cannot tell.

 

You know the type – the artists, cooks

And entertainers, too,

Who proudly peddle or perform

But haven’t got a clue.

 

They’re lucky to be unaware

That talent they do lack

And if they face rejection, well,

They’ll give it one more crack.

 

Yet if they get enjoyment

From their hobby or their work,

Perhaps that self-indulgence

Is sufficient as a perk.