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
—-∞∞—-
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
In a dim light... 