My choir probably would not function even half as well if not the continual work of one of our volunteers, affectionately known as JSK. On a recent Saturday morning, when he jumped into a situation to save me a minor headache, he sarcastically said that I’d better write him a poem. I keep my promises.

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I promised I’d write you a poem

But the muse who usually visits me

Must have been gotten side tracked

Stuffing her face with chocolate in your office.

So I’m forced to scratch out this nonsense instead.

What kind of ode should I give you?

That’s the question that won’t leave me,

For how can one laud the enormity of your personality

With pathetic lines like this one?

Maybe I should just delegate this task to you.

That’s usually how it goes, doesn’t it?

—I’ll do it. I handled it. I’ve got it. I already thought of that—

Your continuous refrains of proactive and reactive decisioning

Easing the lives of anybody who needs your help,

Even if you don’t always do it with a smile.

I can see that; but, truly, no judgement from me.

I’m familiar with how the word balloons

That float over your head can be filled with

Ampersands and exclamation points and pound signs

—Or are they called hashtags now? I don’t know. We’re both old.

I really need that muse to be done snacking,

So I can write you something poignant

Something beautiful and cherished, with a heaping cup of snark,

A poem fit for you, because it’s like you.

This is what you get though. It’ll have to do.