Old lawn chairs at the lake
Circa 1946, after the war
Steel
Heavy, very heavy
Yet very comfortable
A reminder of my parents
Those chairs, their chairs
Brought to this cabin
For their 50s
Summer home
During the walk from the lakeshore
The long uphill walk
Midway from the lake to the cabin
Those chairs
A welcome respite
Sometimes I imagine
Mom and Dad
Sitting in those chairs
At night, overlooking the lake
Bathed in starlight
Their ashes are nearby
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
Tuft by tuft
Pulled by the cold night air
Like feathers, heat leaves our bedroom
On this winter’s night
Reaching down
A second blanket is found
Pulled up around the neck
Warmth enfolds, sleep returns
© 2017 Thomas W. Cummins
This morning as I came down the stairs, the rising sun was casting shadows on the wall and closet door after passing through the lace curtain, past the dracaena marginata, and the stair rail. Leaves from outdoors were dancing amidst the lacy and muted pattern.
—∞—
Throwing a pattern© 2014 Thomas W. Cummins
