Sunset After Storm

(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?)
 
 SUNSET  AFTER  STORM
 
The rain rolled down our windshield
in a stream that wouldn’t stop.
The thunder grumbled overhead:
“Look out! The sky might drop!”
 
   The lightning scissored through the dark
and made the clouds look bright.
The dashboard clock said three, but gee,
it looked like nine at night.
 
   And then the clouds began to shrink;
the rain fell soft and slow.
Blue windows opened up above;
the sun began to show.
 
   And on the far horizon,
as evening turned to night,
an orange sherbet ice cream cone
slid softly out of sight.
 
Copyright © 2016 by Perry Thomas
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Backseat Games

(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?)
 
 
 BACKSEAT  GAMES
 
   §  The time passed all too slowly
as our car rolled down the road.
We added up the license plates,
pretending they were code.
 
   §  We ran a race between the sides,
the left against the right:
We counted silos, horses, cows,
or anything else in sight.
 
   §  We looked for cars from every state,
from sea to shining sea.
We found them all except Vermont
and Maine and Hawaii.
 
   §  We looked for lime-green minivans,
for trucks of royal blue.
We raced to find the alphabet,
but both got stuck at Q.
 
   §  We ran the score to 94,
Toyota versus Ford, . . .
and reached our Grandma’s cottage
just before we both got bored. 
 
Copyright © 2016 by Perry Thomas
 
 

Scenic Byways

(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?)
 
 SCENIC  BYWAYS
 
  §  “Scenic byway,” said the map,
“lovely views of Long Lost Gap.”
Daddy said, “Let’s make the climb;
“after all, we’ve got the time.”
Up that winding road we sped.
Down and dizzy went my head.
 
   §  Scenic byways turn me green —
where’s my dose of Dramamine?
Hairpin curves and twists and turns,
while my stomach tilts and churns.
Long Lost Gap? I’ve got a hunch,
what gets lost will be my lunch.
 
   §  Save me from those scenic byways!
Let me ride the big wide highways!
 
Copyright © 2016 by Perry Thomas 
 

Interstates

(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?)
 
 INTERSTATES
 
  §  Interstates make pavement ribbons,
crossing miles from Home to There,
threading through the rocky ridges,
leading on to Anywhere.
 
   § Interstates sometimes seem boring –
scenery that looks the same,
every stop like every other,
every city just a name.
 
   § Interstates bring evening swimming,
ice machines, and great big beds –
stretching out to watch a movie,
pillows propping dampish heads.
 
   § Interstates have happy endings,
past that final cloverleaf:
Theme parks, kinfolks, mountains, beaches,
snorkeling near a sunlit reef.
 
Copyright © 2016 by Perry Thomas