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