Living Now

Playing chase.

Running circles around the yard.

Peeing on the lawn mower, or the grill,

in addition to the trees.

Looking up to the sky

and barking

at the squirrel

they cannot reach.

My dogs live in the now.

They don't worry about tomorrow.

They don't dwell on what is past.

They live fully in the moment,

exuberant, playful, sometimes patient

(expecting, trusting, believing – not really)

They are here,

ready,

now.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

A Quit Walk in the Garden

Orange fish swim silently

in the smooth waveless water.

This is an ugly place, and yet serene,

Japanese Garden.

What's a garden about a brown pond?

Where are the flowers?

Unless the fish are the flowers,

and their swimming

is the swaying in the breeze.

There is no breeze.

Just hot, humid, boring,

searing sun.

I'm going home.

I can see prettier scenes

on the Internet,

enjoy the beautiful outdoors

in my air conditioning, and

interact with strangers

all alone.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

right before the rain,

feel a puddle in the air

– high humidity

Moving

What to take, and

what to leave for him?

What's important?

What's garbage?

Pack it careful.

Hope it fits.

She picked the hottest time of day

to carry all her stuff away.

It's when the old boyfriend's at work,

which is good 'cause he's a jerk.

Too many things, she needs to keep.

It won't all fit in new man's jeep.

She wants me, and my empty car.

To the new house, we must drive far.

I hate that it's such a distance,

but I'm glad to lend assistance.

Less than a week, those two have dated.

To be together, they were fated.

I hope this is no disaster,

but a happily ever after.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

When Do I Write?

When do I write?

All day and night,

in little bits and pieces.

I live an interrupted life

as mom, Oma, and wife,

and must use moments in between

carpooling kids and washing jeans.

When I do have time to sit,

I pick up needles and I knit.

I have notebooks by my bed,

pens and pencils in the drawer by my head,

a grocery list notebook in my purse,

that has been used to scribble verse,

and a kid's school notebook in my car.

I'm a red light writing star.

Two computers on my desk

I use to compile these random lines of text.

Rearrange and edit for a minute

while supper overcooks.

My name may be Paula Dean

(Nevison), but I am not a cooking queen,

just a stay-at-home mom who always works.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Once in a Blue Moon

Blue moon shining bright

the night before my class starts.

– Omen in the sky.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Dishwasher Duty Discernment

She can't reach to put away the glasses or the plates,

and I don't really want to risk the potential breaks.

But having her help me unload the dishwasher

is an easy to way to promote in her

a healthy self-perception

if I make this a positive interaction.

I need to set her up to succeed.

“Will you put the silverware away for me?”

One by one she takes a fork or spoon

and matches them with those already in the drawer

putting them where they belong.

Hopefully, this will take long enough

that I can put away all the fragile stuff

before she starts handing them to me,

which she has done successfully,

over the tile floor.

It's worth the trepidation

and the extra time it takes

to include my eager four year old

in tasks even this mundane.

The benefits to her are great

(she never does complain),

and totally outweigh

any extra speed I'd gain.

She's learning she has value,

that she is capable and good,

that her input is worthwhile,

and that I believed she could.

Eventually when older,

she'll do it by herself

exactly as I taught her.

Then I'll do something else.

by:  Paula D. Nevison