A Sick Day

A Sick Day

As I awake to contemplate my viral’d blurry head

My nurses are two curled cats in covers on my bed,

Now I am launched; the cats behind as if they’re chasing mice,

My one pursuit to pour some tea into a glass of ice.

I must escape all turning in, and air conditioned room,

The common cold’s no fair excuse for self-inducing gloom,

I walk out to the garden for its life effusing air,

On cue bright bands of lilies raise triumphant trumpet flare.

The marigold with yellow face all crowd the outer clime,

As rod like purple Lythrum wave in metronomic time,

And, orchestrated budded bush devoid of any flower,

Await conducted nature’s nod to bloom in its fine hour.

A choir of birds sang songs of Spring as up and down they swirled,

As I was lifted spirited by viewing God’s grand world!

Peter Lowell Paulson

June 12, 2016

Reid (My Three-year Old Grandson)

Reid (My Three-year Old Grandson)

A swell of emotion,

A heartfelt rending,

Near wrenching,

Caught up in the sleeplessness of “goodbye”,

No death, just parting from a three-year old,

But, not “just parting” either,

Sweet memories swept and sweeping still,

The constant crawling up upon my lap,

With arms caressing my neck,

And, his little head pressed against my shoulder,

As if it was a pillow,

Then as sudden,

A stiff armed push against my chest,

To get a good look at me,

Eye to eye,

And, grin,

Then laugh,

And, jabber for a while,

Only to drop once more,

His head upon my shoulder pillow,

And, tighten those little arms around my neck,

As if afraid,

I might slip away.

Now, will it last…it won’t,

But, memories move me,

These memories will be,

Kept forever!

Peter Lowell Paulson

June 6, 2016

(Poem written after a four-day Grandpa and Grandma “babysitting” this weekend)

Humility

Humility

Humility, a fickle thing,

If I but say I’m offering-

Humility, it’s what I’ve got,

A humble person I am not.

Humility’s not steeped in shame,

Or all beliefs as being the same,

There is that aspect of respect,

To care for other’s intellect.

The powerful must stifle greed,

Yet still be strong when they must lead,

It’s never meek or weak to try,

To carry humble banner high.

Humility, when we pursue,

Far less in words, it’s what we do,

Humility, the virtue of,

Is wrapped within a word called “Love”!

Peter Lowell Paulson

May 29, 2016