STREET FOOD

Stands of Tacos sit on old town streets
With birria pots and crisp carnitas too,
And butcher shops, their counters filled with meats.
Locals stand in lines--more than a few.

One deals with money; make sure that's all he does.
He shouldn't touch the food plus your cold cash.
Hygiene issues do give some a pause,
But me it never bothered.  I'm sort of rash.

At times this food scene makes me want to live here,
But then I'd have to cook and clean and more.
So much to eat, so little time, I fear.
In fact, it's time to eat again; it's four.

The food down here is just so good,
I'd be here every day--I would!

MORNINGS AT THE Y

I walk two miles around the track each day
And then I row four thousand meters more.
To keep my weight I've found the Y's the way.
You'd think by now my bod would not be sore.

And then I go downstairs to lift some weights.
On day one I focus in on arms.
If I can lift them all, the workout's great,
But if I can't, I figure what's the harm.

When I'm done, I jump into the shower,
And used the spa before they ripped it out.
For me, the whole thing takes a couple hours.
Another morning's done I'd like to shout.

This workout keeps me young and fit
And then I go right home and sit.

TWO BLUE SPRUCE

The two blue spruce reside in our front yard.
A nursery planted them when we moved here.
They flank our door and stand a stately guard,
As if to say there's nothing here to fear.

They're filled with cones all gathered at the top
And with each gust they hurtle to the ground.
Jaydee picks them up and never stops
As new winds come and start another round.

These trees have grown most of our married life.
From little sprouts they now reach to the sky.
They feed the wonder with which grandgirls are rife
And like those trees, their reach is never shy.

When we're long gone the spruce will stay
And sow more wonder on the way.

HOMELAND SECURITY

I have a baseball bat beneath my bed.
It's there to ward off unexpected guests.
Close by to grab and club them in the head,
At night it gives us both a carefree rest.

This whole idea, of course,  is more than laughable,
The thought of me with club in hand--then what?
To hit someone?  I'm just too affable.
That's why I keep the bedroom windows shut.

My well-armed friends will doubtless roll their eyes
And worry for my welfare late at night,
But every morning when I safely rise,
I have to think they're wrong and I am right.

There's danger lurking everywhere.
That's all right; I just don't care.

SAN PEDRO

The cushions at the pool in Banyon Bay
Are laid out every morning when I rise.
Waiters take drink orders through the day,
And I hang out and watch the cloudless skies.

A dock juts out into the morning mist
Where boats line up with bait and rods and reels.
They trawl for snapper and for other fish
To grill up on the beach for midday meals.

Estel's for breakfast always starts our day,
A walk along the beach with the whole group.
And don't forget the chicken drop on Wednesday,
When gamblers bet on where a rooster poops.

Palapas bars line every beach.
We ride our bikes from each to each.

BACKYARD SPRING

I love the backyard when things turn to Spring.
The ash have just begun to get their leaves
And mountain winds blow in with all they bring,
While cold night chill gives way to gentle breeze.

Lilac bushes line the cedar fences,
Old benches here and there for decoration,
Honeysuckle blossoms fill my senses,
And a garden for grandgirls' excavation.

I built a deck back there for get togethers.
We all gather there for family dinners
That last all day depending on the weather.
One thing for sure, no one's getting thinner.

The snow is gone; the sky is blue.
Another winter we've just gone through.

READING HABITS

I used to read The Post to F. each day.
Strapped in her chair down in the breakfast nook,
Gurgles and coos were all she had to say,
While I read ledes and pointed out each hook.

I read to her from other texts as well.
For instance, Dr. Seuss, L. Frank Baum,
And Maurice Sendak all had tales to tell.
There were others--too--that surely did no harm.

The Sanguin girls, although, have different tastes.
They want the reader to put on a show.
Without some random sounds, the book's a waste.
Sometimes, you have to be a clown, y'know?

My reading habits haven't changed,
But they have been rearranged.