October lemons green as limes
merry yellow by Christmas time.
Tree unfazed by sizzles or storms,
by wintertime it stands adorned.
When garden ornaments turn ripe,
juicy bulbs hang heavy and bright.
Leaves fasten stems like angel wings,
fragrant spheroids dangle and swing.
Dependent, and dependable,
a woman pushing another,
the burden of infirmity shared.
Wheels spin as we parallel
on the otherwise empty pavement.
One twin above the other,
like sunflowers, on the same stalk,
They turn to look at me and offer
the sincerity of unforced smiles,
positive comments, and hopes
that I have a very good day,
I mean it when I wish them the same.
Short but memorable encounter,
for as I continue on my way,
it can’t be coincidental that
My own petals have begun to unfurl.
A nocturnal screech assaulted
the neighborhood and roused my
sympathy for a female feline
at the mercy of a heated tom.
While sipping my herbal tea, and
watching a late, late show, I could
not help hearing nature take its
course beneath my window.
The deed seemed done but still
I wondered just where those cats
came from, who had let them roam,
and why my dog lay unconcerned.
We exited
off the freeway
to wind around
country boulders.
Off-road-shoulder
placards expressed
state of rural
independence:
“Deer may cross”
“Rocks may slide”
“May flood when it rains”
“Horseback riding allowed”
The tidy deserve
messy comforts and
grateful expressions.
The fierce admire
tough challenges that
suspend all chuckles.
The clumsy amble
irked by bright glimmer
spangled in their eyes.
The deceived complain
and exaggerate
great astonishment.
The fleet and versatile,
by coincidence,
perform and delight.
Warp of rosy ribbons
weft of thorny dread
soft and roughly twined
erratic tapestries
I weave within my mind
At the window I view
looms of crowning limbs
and undulating leaves
where wefting windy ropes
cross warps of silken breeze
Weather at last eases
bindings cut and gone
standing free garden tree
once again embroiders
tranquil greenery
When Fahrenheit rose uncomfortably
up several degrees internally,
thermometer neared one hundred and two,
the abnormal heat caused my shivers too.
Decided to follow voices I’d read,
fever burns virus until it is dead,
without those pharmaceutical effects
that can cause kidney or liver defects.
“Won’t take medicine, are you serious?
Perhaps, illness has made you delirious.”
“Look, I’m still taking my blood pressure pill,
and adhere to multi-vitamin drill.”
I moaned at well-intentioned suggestions,
and groaned rather than answer his questions.
I allowed sickness to follow its course,
slowly got better, and am not divorced.
Stretched lake breeze,
ten thousand trees,
continuous bay,
milky waves,
lonely twinkle,
solitude hills,
daffodils pensive,
golden thoughts.
——
The Daffodils
William Wordsworth, 1770 – 1850
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A Poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
Sometimes before falling asleep in bed
I tune in people who now are long dead.
Glamorous actors from last century
look stylish in dramas or comedy,
film noir, or high jinks of action frolic
city bustle or somewhere bucolic.
Cinema loved a storybook romance
feelings expressed in a well-rehearsed dance.
Entertainment sang on Hollywood lots
before stars got cast into dark, final plots.
On my screen they shine without special effects,
computer zombies, or uncomfortable sex.
Algebra factors bored
friends who preferred baseball
thrown and caught, high and low,
through the heart of the house
that pounded hit and miss.
–
Venetian hand-blown glass,
glazed warm with memories,
Modigliani necked,
graceful, fragile icon,
broke like a shattered dream.
–
Dad took Ben’s mitt and ball,
grounded, Ben could not play,
did homework on his own.
What lesson did he learn?
It hurts when your Mom cries.
Elaine Anne Westheimer 
Written
on December 27, 2019