August Morn

August Morn

August morn so dark as night,

Birds and crickets chirping still,

And, midsummer’s morning bright,

Gone as Fall asserts her will.

Perfect weather dons the day,

Longer sleeves and jackets worn,

Stronger winds make tree tops sway,

Autumn colors not yet borne.

Fore the children see the bus,

Lights within the houses burn,

Hearing parents start the fuss,

Ready household their concern.

Oh, the change of seasons’ view,

Grasses greening far and near,

Mums and asters strut anew,

How I love this time of year!

Peter Lowell Paulson

August 26, 2019

Wonderful Wondrous Wonder

 

Wonderful Wondrous Wonder

Wonderful, wondrous, wonder,

I wonder where you wandered from,

Wonderful, wondrous, wonder,

With whimsy and wishes you come.

Wonderful, wondrous, wonder,

So willful and wanton you will,

Wonderful, wondrous, wonder,

Wend wakened to me and be still.   

Peter Lowell Paulson

August 13, 2019

Waves in the Mirrored Lake

Waves in the Mirrored Lake

The glassy lake

All mirrored in brilliant light,

It’s calm surface an illusion,

As sun sets behind the hills,

Shadows descend,

As waves, once hidden,

Emerge,

Like magic,

Slow and swollen,

Crest and col,

Rolling silently,

Relentlessly,

And, laughing,

As I smile,

Broadly,

At the wonder revealed,

Before my eyes!

Peter Lowell Paulson

The Shower

The Shower

Sometimes my wife will say,

No shower for her today,

She’ll state with no regret,

“I’d rather not get wet”.

Now, that’s my favorite part,

I simply love the start,

That column of warm rain,

From head to feet on drain.

When I was just a boy,

Four brothers would annoy,

My mother made a fuss,

One minute shower for us!

That’s right; just sixty secs,

And, how it did perplex,

It made our Mom quite proud,

She had us count out loud.

Oh, waste was one concern,

(Warm water for her turn),

But, bless her heart she’s through,

One minute shower, too.

All grown and rather free,

A daily shower spree,

And, now that I’m the man,

Two minutes ‘cause I can!

Peter Lowell Paulson

July 16, 2019

Summer Flowers

Summer Flowers

A flower fed within its folds,

It blazes in the summer sun,

And, through the heat its head it holds,

Its season fully on the run.

Each parting petal lays upon,

As casting shadow far beneath,

With myriad partners colors don,

Their beauty for the eye bequeath.

Unto the world its rapture brings,

As God, with goodness, smiles above,

With every hope all nature sings,

A full and flower’ng wondrous love.

Peter Lowell Paulson

July 11, 2019