Estrangement

August 24, 2017

Heartache
Emerges unsummoned
From the subconscious
Takes up residence
Down low
In the stomach
Until
Nothing else matters

A simple question,
“What’s wrong?”
Brings a flood of tears
Washing away
Much of the ache
Leaving behind
Deep sorrow
Confusion, longing

©2017 Thomas W. Cummins

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Dancing Rose-Gold

August 18, 2017

It’s that time of year again.

In a dim light...

—∞—

Each morning
Early
As though awakening
The lake
Comes alive
 
An opening movement
Two ducks
In formation
Quietly chatting
Whisk by just above the water
 
A single gull appears
Overhead
Looking, searching
Its wings
Pink with the rising sun
 
Far off
A loon begins its day
Black-green head
Sharp, wet bill
Glistening
 
On the bunkhouse wall
A dance
Rose-gold reflection
Sun grazing the water
Finding its way into the room
 
A noiseless waltz
Sometimes partnered
Leaf shadows
Gentle
In a morning breeze

© 2014 Thomas W. Cummins

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That missing something

July 29, 2017

Sitting at a table
Our group of eight
A crowded restaurant
An awareness
Of my not talking
Not listening
Gazing out the window

Feeling detached
Indifferent
An unknown
Unarticulated
Longing
For what?
That missing something

©2017 Thomas W. Cummins

I watch and wait

July 16, 2017

—-∞∞—-

Thundering, blowing rain
A squall
Wind-whipped leaves
Vegetables in the prisoners’ garden
Planted in the housing unit yard
By the fence

While a desolate place
Nurturing rain
Growth
Symbols of life’s hope
Grace overcoming bleakness
Pushing aside despair

Sheltered under an overhang
I watch and wait
Far from the chapel
Where men also wait
Four locked gates away
I watch and wait

© 2017 Thomas W. Cummins

By the Roadside

June 6, 2017

By the roadside, miniature volcanoes
Erupting
Grain of sand by grain of sand
Tumbling
Down the slopes
Forming
Fuji-esque cones

In the tiny calderas
A hole
At the bottom
Leading to where the ants live
Cool
Sheltered
Sizzling hot asphalt a foot away

When dusk arrives
A refreshing coolness
Covers the road surface
Creatures great and small begin the perilous journey
From ditch to ditch
Hoping against hope
An occasional car whizzes by

©2017 Thomas W. Cummins

My future waits for me alone

June 1, 2017

Is it just sitting there waiting?
The future, that is
Or is it there at all?
Yet, whatever it is, it looms
Often dreaded
Occasionally filled with hope

Our present steps into that future
Or, perhaps, the future comes toward us
As our past is pulled away
Pulled away with its regrets and joys
Pulled away with its dreams
Fulfilled or deferred

Aren’t we left, really, with only today?
Today, the present, belongs to both
Past and future
Who I am is a remnant of my own past
My present is experienced by no other
My future waits for me alone

©2017 Thomas W. Cummins