Scaffold View

Across the street, on scaffold rigs,
Construction workers hover
And if they’d glance my way, this is
What they just might discover:

A bedroom filled with books and pictures
All in frames of black,
A quilted bed and clutter
I’ve been meaning to attack.

And then, of course, upon a chair,
The other sight they’d see,
With pad and pencil, jotting words,
A rhyming poet – me!

Group Dynamics

A group has a dynamic
That gets set as time goes by,
But sometimes something changes;
Then we sit and wonder why.

A member of the group departs
Without an explanation
Despite the history of
35 years of duration.

We can’t expect to stay the same
For people grow apart,
But it only takes one apple
To upset the applecart.

Losing an Anchor

I watch the news on PBS
The rare times I’m inclined,
For their reporters are, to me,
Well-spoken and refined.

Election times are when I turn
To listen to their panel
And there’s no need to ever feel
I need to change the channel.

Gwen Ifill was an anchor there,
As classy as they come.
The news of her demise has left me
Sad, surprised and numb.

Her absence from the station
Led, as far as I could tell,
To some viewer speculation
That she wasn’t feeling well.

For I’d bet the chance to talk
After the candidates debated
Would be one she’d never miss unless
She’d had to be sedated.

I’ll not soon forget Gwen Ifill
With her funky specs of blue.
She performed in brilliant fashion,
Which is what she’d meant to do.

A Sunny Sunday

A sunny Sunday afternoon
With family in the park
Is one that on a calendar
You wouldn't think to mark.

Yet out among the leaves of gold,
The weather crisp and bright,
Our kids and grandkids by our sides,
Things start to feel all right.

The recent news recedes a bit
And not at all too soon,
For hope can be restored on such
A sunny afternoon.

Agreeing to Disagree

Let's agree to disagree
When differences arise
For every person has some traits
Which really might surprise.

To focus on the things we share
Is what we ought to do.
Relationships can last
When commonality's the glue.

We can't expect to be in sync
On every point in life,
So keeping quiet might be
One sure way to keep out strife.

But sometimes reaching out a bit
Seems like it's worth a shot.
It may convince or change some minds,
But also, it may not.

The bottom line, though, is to try
To not allow a rift
To develop in connections
Which have given us a lift.

Shooting Star

Last week I saw a shooting star,
A rare and wondrous sight.
Inside our car, my spouse and I
Reacted with delight.

I made a wish, remembering
Instructions I'd once heard.
My husband missed his chance,
Believing such a thing absurd.

My wish was for a future time
But since Election Day,
I wonder if I could have helped
Turn things a different way.

Perhaps if I had wished for help
Electing You-Know-Who,
The outcome of the race just might
Have switched from red to blue.

The Popular Vote

For the second time in memory,
We’re faced with the ironic
When we look at an election
More divisive than harmonic.

Though the states made their decisions
And Republicans can gloat,
Seems the Democrat, the loser,
Won the “popular” (ha!) vote.

Something’s wrong with such a picture.
If the population’s voice
Does unite in its selection
We should, thus, respect that choice.

So we end up with a president,
Unpopular at best,
Leaving more than half the country
Pessimistic and depressed.