Spring Lake 2024

All Poems, Environment/Mother Earth, For Children, Natural Beauty, Pleasure, Spring Lake 2024, Trips and Places

Dunes in Spring Lake

Posted on

How many people stop to look at dunes?

Before crossing the boardwalk to the beach in Spring Lake?

It’s tempting to run past.

Set feet on sand.

Cool off in steady surf.

But, if you pause, the fragrance of untamed roses intoxicates.

Elegant blooming sweet peas stretch.

Into hillsides of pink poetry.

Blowing this way, that.

Attracting queen bumble bees.

Hosta lilies sway in unexpected pockets.

How did they find their way there?

Errant seeds settling in a tangled meadow?

Lush grasses, knotweed, tall curled red dock buffeting about.

All adding perspective, depth, dimension.

Sharp contrast to manicured gardens around houses.

Cared for by professionals for landscaping perfection.

No, here on dunes, it’s natural.

Plants growing untamed, wild.

A sight to soften senses.

Meet Mother Nature’s child.

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 18, 2024

 

Adult Children, All Poems, Family, Pleasure, Spring Lake 2024, Stories, Trips and Places

Shopper

Posted on

I am not a shopper.

Never rejoicing in scanning racks.

Full of colorful jackets, skirts, dresses.

Seeking the perfect size, price point.

Especially now when service in most stores, diminished.

Unlike my childhood days at the Blum Store.

When attendants hovered about to help.

But, my daughter, like her grandmother, loves the sport.

Knowing well her style, her colors, what suits her.

Going at it like a hunt.

Checking tags, touching materials.

Gathering her prey to try on.

In tiny mirrored dressing rooms.

I like watching her movements.

Lithe, limber, full of energy.

Animating her, making eyes wider, smile broader.

As she zeroes in on her mark.

So, when I’m with her, I, too, delight.

Wake up from languidness.

Catch her zest, resilience,

joy in nailing the prize.

Deftly pull out my credit card

to join her exercise!

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 17, 2024

All Poems, For Children, Natural Beauty, Spring Lake 2024, Stories, Trees, Trips and Places

Lindens in Spring Lake

Posted on

Once you smell a flowering linden tree, you always know it.

It becomes part of your repertoire of aromas.

Like lilacs or roses.

But, I only came to meet lindens later in life.

After moving to Elkins Park.

Known for the tall, shade trees.

Blossoming yellow in June.

Diffusing scents of citrus, honey.

Like a thurible spreading incense in a cathedral.

Swinging sweetness, perfume.

So, I was enchanted on Passaic Avenue in Spring Lake.

Between the town and the fire station.

When the now familiar floral flurry filled my nostrils.

Seven lindens in full bloom.

Boughs weighed down with bouquets and bees.

Redolent with pleasing fragrance.

Sanctifying passage.

I, paying tribute to florescence.

Its aromatic language.

Lynn Benjamin

June 17, 2024

Adult Children, All Poems, Beaches, Family, Food, Humor, Spring Lake 2024, Stories, Trips and Places

Breakfast in Spring Lake

Posted on

Roseanne determined she had to catch a mid-afternoon train.

To get back to Manhattan.

On time to meet her children.

So, I suggested a light breakfast, late lunch.

For our Father’s Day celebration.

First going for savory croissants.

Which the bakery was out of.

Substituting an Irish soda bread.

Packed with plump dark raisins.

Grabbing drinks, finding a shady spot to picnic.

Each pulling off corners of the bread.

Savoring it between swigs of coffee.

This would be even better with jam, said Roseanne.

Then after another bite or two, or butter.

Well, I countered, this way it’s au naturel. You taste the bread exactly the way it is.

Like seeing a woman without make-up, coif.

Without latest fashion design.

Standing before you just how she is,

original state, divine.

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 16, 2024

Adult Children, All Poems, Family, Humor, Spring Lake 2024, Stories, Trips and Places

Pitch Dark

Posted on

It was pitch dark.

As Roseanne and I walked along the park in Spring Lake.

Searching for the last ice cream shop still open.

She arrived late by train from Manhattan.

The only adult child able to join us for our trifecta celebration.

Birthday, Anniversary, Father’s Day.

So, our dinner began later, too.

Long and leisurely.

Also known as slow service.

Sitting outside as the sun set after nine.

This town, quiet, sedate.

Even on Saturday nights, places shutting down early.

Bob urged Roseanne and me to set out.

He, staying behind to pay the bill.

Neither of us, sure where the dessert place was.

We marched, hoping in the right direction.

It was hard to follow the google map app directions.

Who can read street signs without light?

Let alone see the sidewalk ahead.

Street lamps, either extinguished or dim.

Call Dad, Roseanne suggested.

I resisted saying we’d either find it or not.

Thinking we wouldn’t make it before closing.

But, he’ll tell us if we’re close or not, she insisted.

Again, I demurred.

Okay, she shrugged, he’ll soon be calling you.

Then she mimicked his voice, I’m here. Where are you?

Only ten steps later, the phone dinged.

I’m here at the shop. Where are you? Bob asked.

Then he reassured us we were on the right path.

I turned to Roseanne, how did you know he’d call?

She laughed like Brer Rabbit at the briar patch.

You two are a comedy routine.

She knows us like a book.

Fifty years observing us

with scrutinizing look!

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 15, 2024