Commencement Lament

(Some of these short poems see Creation as if through a child’s eyes. Some of them suggest a more mature view of the Creator. A few of them even reflect the long perspective of age. Most are not intended to be Scriptural, sometimes not even spiritual. Yet they may give your spirits a lift: By the middle of the week, who doesn’t need a chuckle or a changed outlook?)
 
COMMENCEMENT  LAMENT
 
Gowns are hot.
Shorts are not.
May and June see both a lot.
 
   Gowns enclose
learned rows –
dignity about to doze.
 
  Shorts adorn
those who scorn
heavy garb at eve or morn.
 
   Would my gown
were cut down
to bermudas, I’d not frown!
 
Copyright © 2016 by Perry Thomas

Overheard in Upland Woods

(Some of these short poems see Creation as if through a child’s eyes. Some of them suggest a more mature view of the Creator. A few of them even reflect the long perspective of age. Most are not intended to be Scriptural, sometimes not even spiritual. Yet they may give your spirits a lift: By the middle of the week, who doesn’t need a chuckle or a changed outlook?)
 
  OVERHEARD  IN  UPLAND  WOODS
 
  §  Why do aspens like to lean?
Pines prefer to stand up straight.
 
  §  Aspen skin shines white and clean,
beauty-marked with black and green.
Each tree, leaning toward her mate,
whispers secrets in his ears.
 
   §  Pines don’t care who overhears.
Now the wind picks up and veers.
Pines talk freely to the breeze.
Listen! Hear the talking trees?
 
Copyright © 2016 by Perry Thomas
 
 

Ponderosa Pines and People

(Some of these short poems see Creation as if through a child’s eyes. Some of them suggest a more mature view of the Creator. A few of them even reflect the long perspective of age. Most are not intended to be Scriptural, sometimes not even spiritual. Yet they may give your spirits a lift: By the middle of the week, who doesn’t need a chuckle or a changed outlook?)
 
  PONDEROSA  PINES  AND  PEOPLE
 
    §  Ponderosa pines,
so park rangers say,
in their youth grow
bark of blackish grey.
When they turn a hundred,
so it is said,
then they turn their bark
to brownish red.
 
   §  Ponderosas act
like people I know.
First their hair is
whatever shade will grow.
When they’re getting older,
then they may choose
red or honey blond
or ash brown hues! 
 
Copyright © 2016 by Perry Thomas
 

Do Pines Peek at Maples?

(Some of these short poems see Creation as if through a child’s eyes. Some of them suggest a more mature view of the Creator. A few of them even reflect the long perspective of age. Most are not intended to be Scriptural, sometimes not even spiritual. Yet they may give your spirits a lift: By the middle of the week, who doesn’t need a chuckle or a changed outlook?)
 
DO  PINES  PEEK  AT  MAPLES?
 
  §  Maples wear a touch of red,
hazy on a spring-like day.
Then they change their clothes; instead
of red, they put on green for May.
 
  §  When the frosty wind blows cold,
maples change once more; and then
some of them wear robes of gold,
and some return to red again.
 
  §  Pines are hardly ever seen
changing clothes the whole year round.
Pines, it seems, are stuck with green –
at least, that’s how they’re always gowned.
 
 §   I wonder: Do the pines get bored?
Do they ever peek in fall?
After autumn leaves are lowered,
maples wear no clothes at all!
 
Copyright © 2016 by Perry Thomas
 
 
 
 

Nine-Year-Olds in Church

(Some of these short poems see Creation as if through a child’s eyes. Some of them suggest a more mature view of the Creator. A few of them even reflect the long perspective of age. Most are not intended to be Scriptural, sometimes not even spiritual. Yet they may give your spirits a lift: By the middle of the week, who doesn’t need a chuckle or a changed outlook?)
 
NINE-YEAR-OLDS  IN  CHURCH
 
Terry’s turn to sit by me!
Television’s on his mind.
“Teacher, did you ever see – “
Friendly fingers tap his knee.
Hoping that my smile is kind,
“Later, pal,” I whisper. Then
Terry nods and turns again.  
 
Sammy snuggles closer now,
blinking as he finds the page,
proud to show me he’s learned how:
“. . . Happy bond, that seals my vow . . .”
Lisping words beyond his age,
piping treble tones of joy,
singing in the key of Boy. 
 
Gary gazes straight ahead –
chunky body poised, alert,
hungry concepts being fed.
“Tells us all the preacher said,”
Gary’s mom and dad assert.
Smeary glasses slide downhill.
Gary sniffs and listens still. 
 
Tony travels far away, . . .
body lingers at his seat,
mind creates another day . . . .
“Hero Tony!” people say.
“Space patrolman on his beat!”
When we stand for closing hymn,
Tony lands and sings with vim.  
 
Tony, Gary, Sammy, Terry,
dreamy, thoughtful, eager, merry,
fledgling eaglets, pew for perch,
are my nine-year-olds in church,
 
Copyright © 2016 by Perry Thomas