In Which Operation Healthy Backfires A Bit

No alcohol and almost no caffeine,
Lean protein and as little processed crap
As I can keep from eating; that's my scene
This summer. But I fell into a trap:
For also I get lots of exercise
From bike commuting, mowing my own lawn
With my reel mower, and, to my surprise,
I'm up to a round hundred push-ups; dawn
Will also see me doing crunches -- those
I'm almost to two-hundred of. I'm proud
To share this, but there is a price. This blows.
I drink a lot of water, as I'd vowed,
But too much protein and a lack of salt
Means that my dizzy spells were all my fault.

In Which I Wonder At Wicked Water

Two hydrogen, one oxygen; that's all

A water molecule contains. It's just

So simple. In a cup, a pool, rainfall

It's strange enough, though still innocuous.

But should it freeze, there seems to be no end

To mayhem. People slip and cars may crash

That cross it. Then consider, too: the blend

Of alcohol and ice cubes brings on brash

And indecorous manners. But for me,

Why, water is most wicked when it hangs

As icicles from rooflines, menacing,

And looming o'er our heads in heavy gangs,

Assailants and cruel weapons both; they cling

But lightly to their perches, waiting for

A hapless soul's approach to the front door!

In Which We Are Greatly Pleased

Comes now the news: the LCROSS probe has found

Some water where we'd long hoped it would be.

In Crater Cabeus on Luna, 'round

The Moon's south pole. This means a lot to me

For reasons that soon all will understand

(Though it means some slight rewrites must be done!)!

To have a source of water near at hand

Bodes well for future colonization

And making of the Moon a right foothold

For future space development. This here

Is just the kind of news that cheers my old

And sci-fi loving heart. I hold too dear

The hope that someday mankind will explore

And learn about the universe next door.

Winter Has Found a Cruel New Way to Mock My Fragile Hopes and Modest Dreams

This morning at my local grocery store,
Was laid for me a welcome, glad surprise:
Strawberries for a dollar, nothing more,
Per pound, and those of quality and size
And scent to make me wonder when I am.
It's wintertime, yet they they were, so ripe
And ready to be made up into jam.
I bought up four; my debit card did swipe
And brought them home with great alacrity --
But then I came back home to find a mess:
My ceiling weeping like a willow tree,
My kitchen floor awash in snowmelt, yes,
Those roof repairs they did that raised my rent
Last time around were money so well spent!