Outside the window
Contours of the land
Among the trees
Made visible by the snow
On this quiet Saturday morning
An intrusion into my thoughts
What?
Memories, longing, loneliness?
Perhaps all that
A longing to be alone
Something pulling, tugging
Toward solitude
How can this pull,
This longing to be alone,
Intrude on loneliness?
Is what is sought,
Present in an apparent
Nothingness?
My mind wanders,
Daydreams …
Thoughts go to a small hill
In a prairie somewhere
Nothing visible but grasses
Distant trees
A breeze gently grabs at my clothing,
Washes over my face,
Rustles the grasses
I find myself on a trail
Deep in the woods
Sunlight flickering through
Leafless trees
Pale light
Winter light
Silence
A broad valley welcomes me
Soaring mountains, dark gray
Snow-covered peaks
Along the path, green
Intense green
Warmed by the rising sun
©2019 Thomas W. Cummins
In a dim light... 
You must be logged in to post a comment.