Monday, November 19, 2007

Once I Saw The Autumn Wind

Once I saw the autumn wind 

Lay a carpet at my feet, 

Red and sunshine gold.

But all too soon the wind grew cold

And with defiance bold and mean

Winter's bleak bareness foretold

By sweeping the sidewalk clean.

Then with lion's roar it blew

The last brown leaves 

Dry and dead from the trees

And laid carpet anew of a different hue.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Anatomy of a Scene

Tania and I were on a mission

When without my permission

They blocked our path,

Incurred my wrath,

By blocking the streets 

For the holiday parade.

We were to meet her mom

At half-past two, woe is me!

For already it was almost three.

Oh alas and alack – 

Her mother will think we had a wreck!

Oh what to do?

What to do?

Then comes her little voice

From behind

Stopping me in mid-whine:

Nonna, take a deep breath.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

A Mother Lost

Why couldn't she have made it all the way to the end with the same gentle grace
and wisdom that had characterized her life?    I sit now with my hand in hers and 
think about that day when I knew even then that it was the beginning of the end.
“Look!  Look!”  she had screamed.  “Over there!  The far wall!  Those
ants!  An army of them! Climbing to the ceiling!  Oh, get them, get them!
Please get them!”
“Where?  Where, Mother?” I had asked, as frantic as she.  
But there had been no ants.  No ants at all.

Monday, November 5, 2007

Native Tongue

I can speak Italian
And in a pinch
Even French
But when push comes to shove
English is the language I love

Some people prefer German or Dutch
Others are happy with Russian and such
And folks in Sri Lanka, if you please
Are delighted speaking Sinhalese
While in China, I fear
One is likely to hear
Several varieties of Chinese

Nonetheless I must confess
That of all the rest
My mother tongue is the best
For its spelling may be peripatetic
And its pronunciation erratic
But I don't mind
Because I find
English oh so nicely
Defines my thoughts most precisely

Sunday, November 4, 2007

One Shoe, Two Shoe, Pretty Sky-Blue Shoe

Long ago and far away
I bought a pair of
Sky-blue shoes
I wore them almost every day

Soft and dainty they fit my feet
But what made them such a treat
Was that wearing them
I felt myself a princess
No less

I loved them so
I later thought I'd buy
Another pair
At least I'd try

Alas I learned at the store
They had that style no more
And to this day still I mourn
Those sky-blue shoes

So if you find a thing
That suits your fancy
Something of a perfect fit
Buy a second one lickety-split