Archive for the ‘Personal’ Category

A New Day

October 4, 2017

Gilt by a setting sun
Trees
Golden
Across the lake
On the shore
A window on an unseen cabin
Angled just right
Ablaze with reflected light

This side, this shore
Could seem gloomy here in the woods
At the foot of the hill
No sunlight on grass or leaves
But tomorrow’s coolness of morning
Fresh sparkle of sun’s rising
Brings a new day
A new beginning

©2017 Thomas W. Cummins

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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

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

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

A seamless series of nows

May 31, 2017

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