Going through boxes and boxes of stuff in preparation for downsizing during the next decade, or so.
I was quite young when I wrote this. Perhaps it was 55 years ago. Nevertheless, here it is
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Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category
I was quite young
December 11, 2017Dancing Rose-Gold
August 18, 2017It’s that time of year again.
—∞—
Each morningEarly
As though awakening
The lake
Comes alive An opening movement
Two ducks
In formation
Quietly chatting
Whisk by just above the water A single gull appears
Overhead
Looking, searching
Its wings
Pink with the rising sun Far off
A loon begins its day
Black-green head
Sharp, wet bill
Glistening On the bunkhouse wall
A dance
Rose-gold reflection
Sun grazing the water
Finding its way into the room A noiseless waltz
Sometimes partnered
Leaf shadows
Gentle
In a morning breeze
© 2014 Thomas W. Cummins
A seamless series of nows
May 31, 2017Slightly 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
Stay With Me
February 10, 2017Sharing as much light as she can, an early morning full moon gently placed a bright square upon our bedroom wall.
A was reminded of this earlier post.
——
Beckoning full moon Flirting behind soaring pines Morning rendezvous© 2012 Thomas W. Cummins
Another Season
September 21, 2016I 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
Analemma
June 29, 2016It’s that time of year again. Always eye-catching, thought-provoking.
Analemma
The other morning The PietaA small replica On a shelf Found by the sun Bright and full The sun Straddling the culminating point Of its northward journey Peeks through the window Just so Twice each year Just before Shortly after The summer solstice For a couple of days It warms That lower shelf Why the intrusion? That draws my eyes An intrusion Into my time My time for solitude, contemplation An intrusion
© 2012 Thomas W. Cummins
