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Powell Hall

March 29, 2019

We’ve been going there since the late 60s
Red plush seats
Ivory-colored walls
Ornate with sculpted shapes
Patterns
Faces and vases
Gold-leaf highlights

As the hour approaches
Far below
On the stage
Instrumentalists
Move into sections
Concert Master appears
An A is sounded

Tuning begins
Then silence
Audience awaits
Tuxedoed conductor emerges
Taking the podium
Cues the orchestra
Magic and wonder fill the room

I often feel
On those evenings
Nothing else exists
Hurtling through the universe
Alone in this space
Unique in its own timelessness
Creations of those long departed
Made present

©2019 Thomas W. Cummins

 

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Posted in gratitude, music, Personal, Poetry, St. Louis Symphony, Uncategorized | 7 Comments »

Dead From Cancer

March 26, 2019

He was difficult

A challenge

Not very enjoyable to visit

Extreme ideology

A Christian Identity adherent

Vocal, preachy

 

But I hung in there

He enjoyed the company

Confined to his room

Alone

Dying

In the prison infirmary

©2019 Thomas W. Cummins

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Posted in Ministry, Personal, Poetry, Prison Ministry, Social Justice, Uncategorized | 5 Comments »

Like molten metal

August 12, 2018

North woods of Minnesota
Smoke
Haze
Deep red-orange rising sun
Shining through the effect
Of Canada’s wildfires

Reflecting a gray sky
The lake below is calm
On the surface comes a disturbance
A boat’s wake
Catches the sun’s iridescence
And for a moment
Like a fluorescent orange molten metal
The rays are stirred into
Slate gray water

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Storm Remnants

June 15, 2018

Following last night’s storms here in the woods by the lake, a reprise of an earlier post.

In a dim light...

—∞—
Like old crones
In tattered dark gray cloaks
Last night’s storm clouds
Shuffle off to the east
 
Hiding the rising sun
They prolong their gloomy pall
Leaving behind sodden leaves
Plastered against windows
Overlooking the slate-hued lake

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I was quite young

December 11, 2017

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

If I could choose

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Posted in gratitude, Nature, Personal, Poetry, Spirituality, Uncategorized | Leave a Comment »

Dancing Rose-Gold

August 18, 2017

It’s that time of year again.

In a dim light...

—∞—

Each morning
Early
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

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