Still Life

 

Still Life

 

Scan the sky,

At night or early morn,

A million, million stars,

Burning brightly,

Whether counted or countless,

They are constant,

Enduring,

A requiem for the soul,

I find it, too,

At harvest time,

Summer meeting fall,

Friends and gardens,

Vines now full,

Larders laden with scarlet reds and forest greens,

A triumph for the eye,

And, in my cat,

Who cares not,

To play or pounce,

When I call her name,

Peace upon a pillow,

She opens one eye,

With sleepy gaze,

Without one word,

She whispers,

Sit like me,

Enjoy,

Like me,

A still life,

A still life.

 

Peter Lowell Paulson

September 3, 2020

The Kindness of My Mother

 

The Kindness of My Mother

 

I don’t know why I thought of this, it happened long ago,

This moment wrapped in happiness, although the time was dire,

My mother in the hospital, but this she didn’t know,

In three short weeks, post-surgery, my mother would expire.

 

It was the essence of my Mom that brings these thoughts to light,

Half paralyzed, tumor removed, lymphoma in her head,

Her son flew in from far away; unscheduled early flight,

She beamed, half-smile, and twinkled still, while lying in her bed.

 

Now, she was worried, of course she was, what would the future bring,

The doctors, nurses bustled round discussing what they know,

But, one young man, an orderly talked ‘bout his girl’s ring,

For soon the wedding would commence, and Mom was all aglow.

 

She asked the lad to bring her purse, in closet where it lay,

With one good hand, she found a gift produced in this small room,

And, now the artist went to work on napkin on her tray,

A wedding card she fashioned for the future bride and groom.

 

“This is for both, but please, if you, can kindly tell your wife,

I have no envelope to spare”; he gazed at her with love,

He saw the kindness of my Mom I’d witnessed all my life,

She taught me well, it comes by grace from our dear God above.

 

I know she watches over me, I sense it all the time,

For she and Dad are partners bound in love both now and then,

I see their picture on the stand with subtle smiles sublime,

I’ll try to pass some kindness on, until we meet again.

 

Peter Lowell Paulson

August 13, 2020

Poetry II

 

Poetry II

 

Poetry’s a “funny” thing,

Sometimes “Ha-Ha”, at times it’s “weird”,

You dance with words that chime and ring,

Within the mind they’re always heard.

 

Poetry’s a puzzle, too,

With pieces hidden in a maze,

Like art you work with “red” or “blue”,

A blazing fire or frozen phase.

 

Poetry’s a simple tool,

Can make me smile or make me cry,

But, I would be the awkward fool,

To sadden folks or make them sigh.

 

Poetry’s a “hook” and “end”,

To hold with love for one small while,

A “greeting card” to a good friend,

You always want to see them smile!

 

Peter Lowell Paulson

August 7, 2020

Let’s Hit the Road

Let’s Hit the Road

That heavy kind of rainy day,

Let’s roll together you and me,

Since we were teens we’ve been this way,

Let’s hit the road, see what we see.

Too wet to hit your garden spot,

The links are drenched beyond repair,

Forget the chores, we now have got-

To hit the road and see what’s there.

Remembering our first old car,

It spent more time in shop than home,

Afraid to take it very far,

Still hit the road and we would roam.

At night the inner dash went out,

No way to tell how fast we went,

The shocks and tires a constant doubt,

Yet, hit the road ‘til gas was spent.

It’s time to grab my pretty girl,

Kick off your shoes upon the floor,

It’s time to drive and take a whirl,

Let’s hit the road which we adore!

Peter Lowell Paulson

August 1, 2020