That Arizona law borders on racial profiling;
A Mothers’ Day wish from a poet-son
It’s Nacho Day If…
That Arizona law borders on racial profiling
I hope your name is not Jose
if you are headed Phoenix-way.
They may think you’re from Mexico
and start to read your rights.
It’s nacho day in posh Scottsdale
if you are jailed till posting bail
for saying “buenos dias”
to a stranger on the street.
Don’t order tacos in Tucson
especially if your name is Juan.
They’ll capture you red-handed
for that salsa really stains.
That new law borders on insane.
No wonder critics are inflamed.
If racial profiling’s deemed right
then something’s deeply wrong.
Illegals can’t sneak north unchecked!
But how you seek out and detect
if someone you suspect’s a fraud
should not shame those who aren’t.
I thought that Lady Liberty
said refugees were safe and free.
Or does that statue now exceed
its limitations?
Remembering a Mom Prone to Forget
A Mothers’ Day wish from a poet-son
Mom’s rosy cheeks are growing pale
Her memory’s begun to fail
This little dinghy needs a sail.
Her outboard’s wearing out.
My mother misses Dad so much,
his sound advice, his tender touch.
She’s lost without her guiding light.
She’s timid and unsure.
Still there’s a sparkle in her eye
and yet I really can’t deny
the fact that Mom is losing sight
of what to do and when.
But then again, don’t get me wrong.
Each night at six she leads in song
as eight or ten or sometimes twelve
belt out those timeless hymns.
She tells a joke like Jay Leno.
Her timing’s perfect, don’t you know?
But how she can recall punch lines
is quite a mystery.
She journals daily like a kid
recounting what she ate and did.
Yet sadly, once she shuts her book
the ink evaporates.
But she’s a star (just like her name).
She twinkles night and day the same.
Her constant smile beams God’s love
to everyone she meets.
God, bless you Mom and give you health,
for as we age that is true wealth.
May you be rich remembering
how very much you’re loved.
* At eighty-three, my mom is a remarkable woman. She is still very much in love with life, her Lord, and her two sons (and their families). She is not in love with a mind that can’t recall what it once could.
My Rhymes and Reasons 