Orangey Skies

If you’re heading outside for a task,

Just forget it. And why, you might ask?

For in New York, the air

Is so bad you don’t dare

To leave home without wearing a mask.

 

The day looks as dark as the night

And the smell tells you something’s not right,

So it’s best now to hide

And keep staying inside

With your windows completely shut tight.

 

Though it seems like we’re under a curse

And the atmosphere can’t get much worse,

Life is filled with surprise

For these orangey skies

Have provided a subject for verse.

Unhealthy Air

I’m sitting in unhealthy air;

The sky is filled with haze

From fires up in Canada,

With acres still ablaze.

 

This morning’s sun was glorious,

An orange-pinkish ball,

Resulting from the smoke but still

Admired and snapped by all.

 

It’s apropos because today

In 1944

The Normandy invasion

Turned the tide to change the war.

 

Those soldiers suffered more than just

The quality of air

And fewer people every year

Know of the battles there.

 

So here I am on D-Day

Thinking of that sacrifice

As I sit and breathe unhealthy air

Against some good advice.

Rooting

To watch something competitive

You have to pick a side,

With someone you can root for

And with whom you feel allied.

 

It could be sports or politics

Or various awards

Or venues like Medieval Times

Where knights wield shields and swords.

 

For when we are invested

In the outcome and we root,

Excitement bubbles up and often

Joy will follow suit.

 

It’s fun to cheer our favorites on

For even if they lose,

Absorption in the chase replaces

Boredom or the blues.

Pre-Auction

In my neighborhood, there is

A well-known auction space

Where items are displayed before

The auction will take place.

 

It’s open to the public, so

Today we went to see

Some very famous songs composed

By Freddie Mercury.

 

So cool to see, in his own hand,

With doodles on the page,

The lyrics which I’ve heard

A thousand times, which still engage.

 

Why he crossed out “Mongolian”

Is anybody’s guess.

Was “Bohemian” with “Rhapsody”

More likely to impress?

 

The auction house had other

Special things to gaze upon

Before the day the auctioneer

Says, “Going, going, gone!”

The French Sans Rafa

The red clay’s staining all the socks,

But Rafa’s aren’t there

And yet, his fourteen titles

Still remain beyond compare.

 

Most years he gets to celebrate

His birthday at the French.

Today, though, he’s not on the court

Or even on the bench.

 

Perhaps his little surgery

Will fix him up like new

So all his fans (like me!) can watch

Him do what he can do.

 

To Rafael Nadal, I wish

A happy birthday day

And a quick recovery so you

Can get back out and play.

On That Note

Two tales of note regarding notes:

I watched my grandson’s band

And thought it was amazing, so 

To take those thoughts in hand 

I sent a little email

To the teacher, so she’d know

She deserved appreciation

For a well-delivered show.

She responded right away and seemed

Delighted I’d reached out.

A little note can lift one like

A whisper, not a shout.

The second note was written by

A doctor who’d not shown

For an early-morn appointment 

(And his office didn’t phone).

The note was an apology;

He had a touch of flu

His toddler twins had passed to him,

As children often do.

That correspondence made me think

That notes, today so rare,

Don’t take a lot of effort

But let people know you care.

Pretending

I’m pretending I’m a tourist 

Looking through a stranger’s eyes,

So the sights I’ve not seen lately 

Almost come as a surprise.

On the ferry, ‘stead of reading 

I gazed out at all we passed,

Noting all the newer buildings

Where construction happened fast.

Now I’m waiting by the ferry slip

To people-watch - such fun!

Though as far as natives go, I might

Just be the only one.

Since I haven’t traveled lately,

This is close as I can get.

Still, I’d rather be a tourist

Someplace I’ve not been to yet.