#Inktober2019: Ripe

Not Quite Ready

Ripe fruits of summer

become fleeting memories

along with hot days

#Inktober 2019: Catch

First Little League Game

He stood on third base

hoping to catch his first ball

His dad held his breath

#Inktober2019:Injured

Creating a Saga

It was self inflicted

or brought on by natural

circumstances or perhaps

a malicious incident

She wore the raised oval

on her wrist as a way 

to enter into an intimacy

without risk, a conversation

gambit, an indulgent ploy 

that let her enter another life

She spun stories

of how the oval appeared—

a marvel, something woven

out of the thread of myths

This was not an injury

without a backdrop.

#Inktober2019: Ride

      Summer

I recall the ride to a bungalow in the Catskills where we piled our overstuffed baggage into the trunk of a large car transporting three families to different destinations and I asked how much longer— we all left the city with its fire escapes and sweltering apartments to spend a week or even the whole summer sharing kitchens in small cabins where fly paper hung down in the kitchen to catch any flying insect and bridge tables became maj jong tables after supper

Our mothers played canasta or maj jong while our fathers worked in the city and came up on weekends and played softball until the sun disappeared while we cheered and sucked popsicles 

I recall the ride home and how I asked how much longer

#Inktober2019: Coat

The Issue of Height

I wore my Pea Coat

and a wool scarf

coiled around me 
ready to unfurl 
as I walked

*scarfs were six feet long

#Inktober2019: Dark

The Dark Season

Winter brings darkness
erasing long days and the
deep heat of our sun

#Inktober2019:Tasty

Summer Treats

A pound and a half lobster

potato salad and a cold beer

eaten while overlooking the ocean

A raspberry chocolate chip

ice cream or a pistachio gelato

A burger piled high with accouterments 

and hand cut sweet potato fries

Banana, strawberry, and mango

spun and blended into a smoothie 

And the sun —warming my bones

I taste the sun, swallow it’s warmth

along with wild  blueberries

and the tang of a summer day

#Inktober2019:Dizzy

   The Earth In Rotation

Once, just once, I traveled

on a spinning, gyrating  

amusement park ride

I traveled from a stable earth

to one that spun, dipped,

shuddered, and catapulted

me into a limbo where I

lost contact with the ground—

where my limbs became 

appendages I no longer

recognized, where my insides

jiggled and lurched from side 

to side, where my head 

began to spin —slowly at first 

and then began to quicken

At the end, unbuckled and released

my legs wobbled, 

and the world still spun
         

#Inktober2019: Ancient

    Interpretation 

When does old become ancient 

Is it a matter of time or perspective

When I was sixteen forty seemed old

and fifty almost ancient

At thirty old moved up to fifty

and ancient hovered around seventy

Now I look upon old as a metaphor

rather than an age— how old do you feel

And ancient refers to Egyptian mummies

or Greek statues, or shards of pottery

found beneath buried cities 

#Inktober2019:Ghost

A Chance to Be Heard

Unsaid words haunt our

nighttime dreams promising to

speak the words aloud 

#Inktober2019: Treasure

The Past Doesn’t Replay

I ignored treasures

spread out in front of me—instead

spending my time
with illusions and daydreams

When those  disappeared,

incomplete stories remained

My treasures—dried up 

left without a backwards glance

#Inktober2019:Tread

Tread Lightly Around Demagogues  

Take care, do not step

into those places where hate rears 

up and destroys us

#Inktober2019:Sling

Using An Antenna

Years ago, when I began teaching in New York City, my first assignment included an extra five hundred dollars because the school carried the designation— problem area school. At the initial meeting for all the new teachers— half the staff— instructions included how to write on the blackboard while facing the class, what not to wear, and when to ring for assistance.

Except for a few students my classes did not turn into hotbeds of destructive behavior. Once I realized that many in the class could not read adequately to decipher the middle school text —a moratorium existed. Instead of dealing with their frustration I began to teach reading—using comic books.

Several students couldn’t care about deciphering words unless those words led to a description of weapons. Superman wore a cape around school and ran a protection racket in the cafeteria. Pay or keep going to the end of the lunch line. He kept order so no one took him on. 

Many of the teacher’s cars had missing antennas —used to make Zip Guns.  Superman made a living making and selling Zip Guns and slingshots that also used antennas, but with little accuracy.

#Inktober2019: Misfit

Take Care Who You Label

Who wears the mantle

of misfit, perhaps the one

who is unlike you

                             

#Inktober 2019: Ornament

Pearls and Diamonds

My aunt amassed boxes

of costume jewelry to

create her own style 

#Inktober2019: Wild

              Wild About

I am wild about white chocolate scones

or cupcakes holding up mounds of frosting

I am wild about paninis stacked with turkey,

thin cheese slices and all manner of accouterments 

Raspberry chocolate- chip yogurt ice cream

in a cup with an inverted sugar cone placed

at a jaunty angle makes any afternoon celebratory

I am wild about cracking unsalted pistachios 

while working on a Times crossword puzzle

If I am  saying ,”this is the last time” I’m

probably opening up a package of chips

I am wild about chocolate covered apricots,

blueberries and slivers of ginger

I am wild about free food samples and thumb size

samples of white wine at a tasting

And I am in love with brunch buffets and potluck dinners

I am wild about dishes prepared by someone else

#Inktober2019: Legend

Close to Her Heart

My grandmother held
her old stories from Poland
beneath her corset

                                 

#Inktober2019: Overgrown

Recipe for Lovers

Tend to those you love

If left alone nettles will

choke out the blossoms 

                                         

#Inktober2019: Ash

Redirect

Ash,  fueled by hate  left

after someone is viewed as less than,

a person who is declared not worthy

Ashes— left after hate has its say, or

rears up —festers, smolders, and fueled

to rise up again under incendiary words and actions

If we say nothing, not wanting to squander

words on those who hate —we share blame.

We need to smoother those ashes,

stomp down on any embers 

and walk a different path. Our fire

must burn with love.

#Inktober2019: Dragon

 The Art of Memory     

             

             Some day you will

             be old enough to start reading

             fairy tales again.

                —C.S.Lewis

To indulge in fantasy remains a delight

for both borders of age.

The young imagine themselves 

as Superheroes—creating scenarios 

to save their world from beasts 

who show up in dreams.

The young give voice to stuffed animals

who listen and offer love.

The old make an art of remembering.

Drawing on memory to find words

to explore neighborhoods, to recall

with hazy accuracy years before

double digits and years after.

Some recall a book, a song, 

the words of an adult. Looking ahead

the time shortens, but standing still

and looking backward the vista is broad.

#Inktober2019: Snow

The Meteorologist as Seer

Get your  milk and bread
 Twenty-five inches of deep snow
 are coming today  

                  

#Inktober2019: Pattern

Our Paradigm

Life, a symphony

of subtle notes and flashy

interludes through our decades

#Inktober2019: Swing

On My Side of the City

How high did you swing?

Did you ever touch a cloud

or leave the neighborhood

or fly beyond concrete sidewalks

and apartment buildings tight

against one another?

Did you ever swing on a rope

hanging on a tree branch

and let go over moving water

to respond to a dare? 

If not we never met.

#inktober2019:Frail

   Fragile & Frail ,Don’t Drop

My mother’s teacup

placed on top of my bookcase 
still holds a fragrance

#Inktober2019: Enchanted

An Enchanted Place

Before the steep ascent up

Old Rag Mountain we walked

amid oak, maple and hickory trees

Then climbed past fields of wild flowers—

columbine, milkweed, nodding onion,

white bloodroot, and those whose 

names I never knew

We scrambled over ragged rocks 

on the Ridge trail— collected

shards of granite, zigzagged

on switchbacks until we arrived

at the  top where boulders smoothed

by time and water basked in the sun

I read some psalms— 

Words of praise 

reverberated in the crisp air, syllables

dispersed over granite formations 

and echoed across the mountains

Holy, Holy, Holy

#Inktober2019:Husky

A Quick Recovery 

    On the High School Debating Team

His voice grew husky—

His argument lost its fire—

He altered his path

#Inktober2019:Build

To Build Again

                            It is not incumbent on us to
                            finish the task, but neither are
                            we free to refrain from
                            beginning it.
                                       Pirkei Avot. 2:16

When a disconnect happens

that appears to be too deep,

hidden beneath layers—

the  past is gone, but

forgiveness remains

You need to approach the abyss

with care—bottom waters 

drag, but forgiveness exists

If the other refuses to hear,

to listen—try again

We build on small steps—

balancing forgiveness and love

with both hands

#Inktober2019:Freeze

Cold Weather Freeze

Winter slips under
The door—around my shoulder
and leaves a cold veil

#Inktober2019:Bait

     Fishing in a Mountain Stream

We made bait with Wonder bread

balls rolled through ground garlic 

and then piled into plastic bags

ready for a morning of fishing—

in a stream running full

Five boys scattered — looking

forward to a perfect fishing spot—

a place to catch Small Mouth Bass,

Sunfish or maybe even Rainbow Trout

I sat on a stream rock

with a pole made of a broken branch

and a fishing line tied to one end,

a garlic ball on a hook at the other end

One of the older boys offered to remove

the hook if any fish bothered to bite

I watched the spots of light on the water,

the way the current moved a twig downstream

and the wavy pattern of fish swimming

I listened to the sound of water

traveling over rocks

and the sound of fish being thrown in a pail

for an evening meal 

#Inktober2019: Mindless

Only Sold Online

     Never in the Store

Pursuit of mindless 

new gadgets leads to hollow

and barren clutter

#Inktober2019 Ring

                                                              

A tree divulges age—

counting each concentric dark

ring as a year. With old age 

her branches soften, mushroom 

spores grasp her trunk, rain

pulls bark away — discarding

it without a replacement

So too my age reveals itself

with a mesh of lines— wrinkles

expose my years. Veins thread

their way up and down my legs, 

reminders of time past. 

Years move along,

dropping reminders along the way.