Poetry. Inspired by morning sun hitting the clouds outside my window.

Gaps in the Clouds

By Paul Klusman

This morning I rose early
My sleep it was in vain

To pass through dark and leave no mark

Through the narrow aisles of pain.

I settled in a chair while

The rest of the world was down

Save the horn of a train calling plain

From the other side of town.

Gazing out the window

To the windy void of nigh

No shape no hue nor little clue

Of life could reach my eye.

Then upon the distant horizon

Came slow a creeping glow

Night gave way to the promise of day

And the wind it ceased to blow.

Past the barren limbs of trees

The clouds hung still in the air

They passed the night into morning light

With colors pale and fair.

The sun brushed over the tops

Of the thin cotton canopy

Gapped and slivered it then delivered

Some hope now there to see.

A warmth it filled my heart

Beams of light entered the room

What gift of beauty what honored duty

The sun chased away the doom.

If ever you shall find you

In solitude or despair

Borrow this light against the night

And make your soul repair.

Borrow this light in plenty

Or when the day is gray

Keep it held in a locket in your hip pocket

And spirit the gloom away.

Poetry. Memories of day excursions in my Uncle's camper with two families packed in and headed down the road on I-94 in North Dakota.

Day Trip I-94

By Paul Klusman

Just a few miles out west of town

Out beyond the city limits

A stretch of pavement flat and true

Deep in my memory elicits.

A journey towards distant horizons

To points then unknown

Along a stretch of highway

In a lovely motor home.

We move with steady motion

Past endless stretch of prairie

With waving tall grass sentinels

To witness our windswept journey.

The motor pulls and the tires hum

As we cleave through the morning realm

My cousin is there beside me

Uncle Don is Captain at the helm.

Aunts and Uncles and Mom and Dad

And the kids together we roam

We’re out and back in a single day

By evening we are home.

Life is movement through space and time

We are travelers on an endless stage

I savor the feel, the sight, and the sound

As these words move onto the page.

Poetry. About dance.

This was inspired by a friend of mine who longs for our local dance community during the time of Covid19 lockdown. She is a lovely animated dancer and I've shared many fun songs with her on the dance floor.

Dancing as Days Shall Be
By Paul Klusman

So long as days shall be
And on this earth we dwell
Let us meet where music plays
To cause our soul to swell.

As hand in hand and beat by beat
We move upon the floor
Time suspends within a song
To make our soul restore.

I’ll meet you there and if ever I
Have legs that one day fail me
Bear no sorrow but remember joy
For my soul you lifted sweetly.

Poetry. This is a response to the classic poem "To the Virgins, To Make Much of Time" by Robert Herrick

To the Old, to Gather in Time

By Paul Klusman

When shadows gather late of day,

As Time grows ever longer

Let us gather come what may

Even as cold grows stronger.

To bask in former glory, to run

Through memories not yet fading

Not bitter sorrows but victories won

Are tales best for trading.

For what is there but quench our thirst

Though youth has long departed

We drink the last as if the first

From the same cup where we started.

So rest ye easy and rest ye fine

And let us gather, merry

For having walked the narrow line

Together now we tarry.