Meeting Mr. Wonderful

On my hike Saturday, I met Mr. Wonderful. Tall, dark and very handsome, he stood in the shade with two female companions.

I hurried to catch up before they moved on. I couldn’t help myself, drawn by his black curls and gentle demeanor. His companions greeted me. He nodded my direction and gently touched my outstretched hand.

Embarrassed, I proceeded up the hill. They followed close behind, then passed me at the bench where I wrote a haiku to August. (Hillside by the trail/covered with blonde bedhead grass – /Northwest in August)

I tracked them to the top, eager to see him again. His companions explained that he didn’t like the downhill. We fell in together, the four of us, pausing whenever he did.

When they stopped halfway down, I decided to continue alone.

That’s when I learned his name.

Noodle, the black Labradoodle. What a guy!

Learning to be late

No magazines to spread germs.
No music to soothe or annoy.
No cell phone use allowed.
No clock to track the time.

Nothing to keep anxiety at bay.

The water cooler breaks the quiet, then silences itself.

I breathe, close my eyes, concentrate on calm, resist impulse to check my phone for the time.

I watch those who arrived before and after me disappear then reemerge.

I wait for a tardy friend just fifteen minutes.

How long do I wait for the doctor?

Conversations between patients and receptionists fill the silence, then drain away.

Doors open, others are called.
Doors open, others exit.

I fidget. The urge to pee grows.
But do I dare lock myself behind that solid door far across the room?

Surely I must be next.

A woman in wheel chair checks in, fills her paperwork, rolls off to see the doctor.

Almost thirty minutes since I checked in.
Did I get the time wrong?

I pace, carrying the sheet of paper from check-in.
Then I notice the appointment time:
Twenty minutes after what I’d written down six months ago.

And at that point I am called.
In their view, right on time.

But now my blood pressure is up.
I ask the reason for 20 minute difference between arrival and appointment.
We need you here early.

Well, yes, I’m always early.
But I didn’t hear suggested arrival time,
I heard this is your appointment time.

Next time, I’ll show up five minutes after that suggested arrival time.

Someone can wait for me for a change. I need to learn how to be late.

Chrome, the Cheshire Cat of Windows 10

Badgered into moving
from my cozy internet connection
I succumbed,
I accepted,
I downloaded.

Ten is the number assigned
to my new improved Window
on cyberspace.

A round, promising ten.

They guaranteed I would be pleased,
would find my way with grace and speed.

I spent days, like Alice
chasing a vanished Cheshire smile,
searching for my own Chrome Cat,
circling, cycling,
turning and turning
and returning
to try again.

I glimpsed that elusive Cat before
it faded to a round afterimage
that pulsed when touched
then slept.

Where had he hid, that sneaky creature?

I asked the cybernerds for help
to find elusive Chrome-y Cat
and learned I’m not the only one
pawing through the tangled Web,
grasping at that small balloon,
to watch it vanish once again,
then emerge when I look
the other way.

But no, I haven’t really tracked him
cannot trick him into staying.

So like a cat! Yet I persist,
hope to coax him back to me,
entice him to purr again
and consent to stay.