Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

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

Dancing Rose-Gold

August 18, 2017

It’s that time of year again.

In a dim light...


Each morning
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
Looking, searching
Its wings
Pink with the rising sun
Far off
A loon begins its day
Black-green head
Sharp, wet bill
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
In a morning breeze

© 2014 Thomas W. Cummins

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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

Stay With Me

February 10, 2017

Sharing 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.

In a dim light...


Beckoning full moon
Flirting behind soaring pines
Morning rendezvous

 © 2012 Thomas W. Cummins

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Another Season

September 21, 2016

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


June 29, 2016

It’s that time of year again. Always eye-catching, thought-provoking.

In a dim light...



The other morning
The Pieta
A 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

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