Slightly darker
On the pale carpet of the bunkhouse
My socks are located
In the dim light
I get dressed
It’s that point
Neither night nor day
Muted even further
By towering trees
In the woods
An eastern horizon
Gives no hint of daybreak
Nor any hint of what the day may hold
What a seamless series of nows
May present
©2017 Thomas W. Cummins
A little house finch
Perched in the morning sun
Red breast, golden rays
© 2016 Thomas W. Cummins
I heard it fall
It was just a leaf
A tiny dried leaf
Yet when it fell
Alone on the wood porch
I stopped
On that warm, sunny, summer day
A slight chill
Fall foreshadowed
Another season
Suddenly present
© 2016 Thomas W. Cummins
—∞—
If only words could let me share
But what can they do?
Re-imagining a morning walk
On an hilly dirt road
Through the woods
Past driveways leading down to the lake
To hidden cabins
Early morning rising sun
Leaves bursting with color
Light flirting with shadows among the trees
Aspens shimmering in an unnoticed breeze
It was very cool, if not cold
Hands taking turns
Between pocket and hiking stick
A deer’s follow-me white flag
Bounding, bounding, bounding … gone
At the bottom of a hill
A pair of ducks exploding from a small pond
Little flocks of tiny birds
Gathering something for breakfast
Amidst the weeds and lingering wildflowers
Unnoticed before
The breeze has picked up
And plays with the holes in my walking stick
A horrible flute
Producing a tone that is simply beautiful
Appearing then vanishing
With the rhythm of my gait
An hour later
Back at the cabin
Warm
Invigorated
Sitting by the window
Steaming cup of coffee
Sparking lake beyond the sheltering glass
© 2015 Thomas W. Cummins
Morning view at the lake. Only there for a moment, and seen by no one else.
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.
In a dim light... 
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