I watched a sparrow on the ground
With an insistent tweet.
Another bird flew over,
Bringing her a bite to eat.
This ritual repeated
With some crumbs from beak to beak.
I Googled this behavior and
I learned I’d had a peek
At a fine display of courtship,
Not so different from our own.
Without the wine and tablecloths,
A seed had still been sown.
I guess it’s universal -
When it comes to pitching woo,
The sharing of a meal is what
Most couples tend to do.
When plans are made, there is a chance
That they might need to change,
For life throws curves and some events
You’ll have to rearrange.
The reasons do not matter -
Family, weather, health or work,
Since beneath the surface calmness,
Unexpected problems lurk.
When I make plans, it’s always with
At least a grain of salt,
Prepared to cancel, knowing that
Nobody is at fault.
If my father never made it home,
I wouldn’t have been born,
Yet so many soldiers’ families,
Through the years, have been forlorn.
Every service member suffers,
For the ones who stay alive
Deal with scars and trauma, even guilt
Because they did survive.
On this holiday of mourning,
Let us pause and give our thanks
To all those who served their country,
Every branch and all the ranks.
There isn’t much I want or need
In terms of concrete things,
For any purchase, guaranteed
Comes weighted down with strings.
Since through the years, the stuff I buy
Accumulates until
There’s no more room, although I’ll try
To more than take my fill.
Without the wall space, I can’t hang
Some art that does attract.
Another pair of earrings? Dang!
I’ve plenty; that’s a fact.
My closet’s full of clothes and shoes,
Yet new ones catch my eye.
By giving in, what’s there to lose?
Yet if I get them - why?
My older self pulls in the reins;
I don’t need more new stuff
Because, by now, I have the brains
To know I have enough.
Though the sun is warm
There’s a little chill,
But I’m here outside
Soaking up my fill.
There are lots of birds
Chirping up a storm.
They don’t think about
If it’s cool or warm.
Ants are crawling by
And a bee buzzed past,
Sending me a sign
Summer’s coming fast.
Since I hate the heat,
Hope it’s not too soon
And this weather lasts
All the way through June.
All our lives we're on the cusp
When entering a phase,
From infancy to toddlerhood
And on, all through our days.
We go to school and then we’re on
The cusp of a career.
We date and fall in love; the cusp
Of family life draws near.
We reach the cusp of middle age
And possibly success,
Along with all the highs and lows
Of life and all the stress.
As years go by, we reach the cusp
Of yet another stage,
Becoming “seniors” with the downfalls
Linked with older age.
It ends the way that it begins -
For right from our first breath,
We go through life, forgetting
We are on the cusp of death.
The fourth grade band was playing
But my eyes were there alone
Not for flutes or clarinets or drums,
Just Henry on trombone.
All the music was familiar
From the practicing he’d done,
So I knew just what was coming
Once the concert had begun.
He looked confident and happy
Sitting up there on the stage
As I realized, in his childhood,
He has turned another page.
What a thrill to watch him growing
And I know if I’m around,
That wherever music takes him,
That’s the place where I’ll be found.
