A Small Signal From the Wood’s Edge


Even on a sunny day
It’s dark at the lawn’s edge
Where the undergrowth begins
At the foot of the hill
The edge of the woods
A small signal of some kind
Flashes from that shadowy realm
What could it be?
Horton isn’t here to interpret
Or explain tiny messages
What could it be?
My mind goes racing
Imagination fills
To overflowing
What reason would reject
A tiny village is there
A candle in the window
The cell window of a monk
Working by candlelight
Transcribing, copying, praying
Sun glints off blades
As skaters
Circle a frozen pond
On a crisp
Late afternoon
A damsel
In a castle keep
Her mirror
Her lover
I found a fragment
The least bit of a leaf
On a silken thread
Moving in the breeze

© 2013 Thomas W. Cummins

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2 Responses to “A Small Signal From the Wood’s Edge”

  1. maskednative Says:

    Your poem transported me into the places of your vision and I left this troubled life, this troubled world for a while. Thank you.

  2. best carpenters in exeter Says:

    Where can I find a carpentry or furniture production apprenticeship in Liverpool

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