When Alice Met Cheshire

When Alice was a little girl,
Back before she became a cat,
Her head was spinning in a whirl,
So she found a rock and she sat.

In the oak tree above her head,
She saw a grin, smiling so broad.
“You are very happy,” she said.
“But yet, something seems kind of odd.

“You have many teeth, shining bright,
But have no body and no face.
Such a nice smile does not look right
With nothing to hold it in place.”

Cheshire grinned more as he appeared,
Growing by one stripe at a time.
An invisible cat is weird,
But it surely is not a crime.

“Now I can see you, pretty cat,
And you look oh-so much better.
I love your stripes, and must say, that
Would make such a lovely sweater.”

“And I see you too, pretty girl,
If indeed that is who you are.
A fine dress and hair with a curl,
As good as you have got so far.”

“I will grow to be a woman,
As the years pass along the way.
There is no need to rush the plan,
To be the lady I’ll be someday.”

“As you wish, if you don't wish more.
Grow, dear child, to be a lady
And you will have many a chore –
No time to lie where it’s shady.

“But I prefer to be a cat,
To nap, doze, sleep and rest all day,
To wake to eat and to get fat,
And to play only when I say.”

“But a girl cannot be a cat –
No more than I could start to fly.”
“Not with an attitude like that –
Not until you’re willing to try.”

“Oh, now, Cat, that is so silly.
Just why should I listen to you?”
“No, don’t listen to me really,
I don’t care what you care to do.”

And with a grin, Cheshire was gone,
Left without a wink or a scrunch.
And Alice awoke on the front lawn
And hurried inside for her lunch.

But she started to think that day
Of the easy life a cat led.
Such foolish thoughts are hard, they say,
To get out once they’re in your head.

So, maybe, if you can believe,
When you pet the cat on your lap,
Alice did figure how to achieve
A life with a lovely catnap.

The Last Poem for My Mother

There is a tree frog perched in our family tree.
He is not there just to watch over you and me.
His life is work, but the sight of him brings me joy.
He stirs up memories of when I was a boy.

Memories are what builds this tree and lets it thrive.
It is the lives we shared, its leaves and branches archive.
As the tree gives this frog his place to feed and spawn,
Our family is still supported when we are gone.

Our lifes nourish the tree and pass its strength forward.
We plant our seed and welcome the next kin aboard.
We convey what we were taught by those before us
And add our own voices to the ancestral chorus.

Even that tree frog and his descendants to come,
‘Though we have scant genetic relation to them,
Are fortunate indeed for all the gifts you gave
To family and friends which in our hearts we save.

At the Farmers’ Market

(tune: The Girl from Ipanema,
Antonio Carlos Jobim (1962))

Small and warm and brown and tasty
With my empanada I go walking
And as I eat
Each bite makes me go aaah

‘Round the booths, stroll like a gawker
At foods so good and oh so tempting
That when I pass
Each booth makes me go oooh

But I must skip by sadly
How can I sample all those treats?
Yes I would break my diet gladly
But each day, when I swallow my pills
They tell me food is why I'm ill

Small and warm and brown and tasty
With my empanada I go walking
And today that’s all I will get –
But yet …

Happy World UFO Day

Grandad, did you ever see an UFO?
Well, now, I guess I must say I do not know.
You mean you never saw a flying saucer.
Does it count if you’re the one to toss’er?
You have not seen strange lights in the sky.
Each night unvisited stars pass by.
I mean spaceships with alien men.
Would that include a Mexican?
The green guys from outer space!!!
I’d notice that face-to-face.
You don't have a wild tale?
I once rode on a whale.
Never beamed aboard?
Too much to afford.
Not even once?
I am no dunce.
No spaceship?
Not a trip.
Good night.
Sleep tight.
Sigh.
Bye.