Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Northern Lake: A Chorus of Color in Four Movements

June 11, 2015

I felt a need to re-visit this post from a few years ago. There is a magic about early morning at a lake in the north woods of Minnesota. Beyond words, actually, but one can try.

In a dim light...

— — —

Pink cloud band’s
Purple tone
Borne on liquid
Golden streak announcing
Sun rising
Clouds gathering
Sun dissolving
Then, faint
Faint gray
Faint gray waves
Emerging – a pulse
Now, pale
Yellowish-pink hues
Lake silver-blue
Nearly glass

 © 2012 Thomas W. Cummins

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Dock Pulled From the Lake

September 28, 2014

A reprise posting on this day in late September when the dock has been, once again, pulled from the lake.

In a dim light...

Dock Pulled From the Lake

It’s fall – work done awaiting the wind, snow, cold
All that leveling last spring – slow, ponderous, perfect
Rakish on the hillside now leaning against the chocks
Tires old, bald, often flat, held it for the slow ride out of the water
Dark green becoming pale and gray
Scaly scum drying in the sun
Ice can’t reach the spindly legs bent one year
Leaves will gather beneath blown into sheltered hiding
Summer’s sights and sounds brought life to the dock
Children laughing, planks clattering, boats bumping, lifts clicking
Worms, bobbers, hooks, lines – casting, watching, waiting
Late afternoons – chairs,  glasses of wine, binoculars
Thousands of acres of lake with no movement except the waves
The loon a favorite regular – used to be shy – magnificent beauty
Eagles must know when we’re not watching – a shadow, a glimpse, a…

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Trying to Connect

February 10, 2014


Where do they go
When they are gone?
That place
That gives them space
No compass pointing
No path suggesting
Stars to guide – growing dim
Silence, emptiness, yet filled – with loss
I call out lovingly
Listen hopefully
No appeal goes forth
No response returns
For it is only my heart
Trying to connect
Forgetting, actually,

© 2014 Thomas W. Cummins

A Willingness To Be Present

December 31, 2013

Another post from earlier this year … as we prepare to move forward from 2013.

In a dim light...


The threshold
Of the future
Is pulled forward
Slowly and surely
Second by second
Or stands still
As the past
Slips away
Retreating fitfully
But never completely
Our yesterdays linger
Directly behind
Or back around a dim corner
Barely accessible
If warm and pleasant
Abruptly intrusive
If unhappy or filled with regrets
But what of our tomorrows?
Filled with hopes and dreams
Or other times with dread
Days and years
Lying ahead
Our dwelling place
To be
Fleetingly or longer
Yet, they are
Waiting to be filled
By us or circumstance
Health, family
Resources, friends
A spiritual foundation
A sense
Of the Other
All shape
A life to come
But, really, isn’t it now,
The present,
That will ultimately decide?
Our sense of self
Our willing to be
Our gratitude –

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December 31, 2013

Today, as we step into another year, has me reflecting on this recent post as well as rereading (for the umpteenth time) Eliot’s Burnt Norton

In a dim light...

Remembering the past
People, places
Events, feelings
From what vantage point?
I wasn’t there …really.
Oh, the person
I used to be
Back when
Most assuredly was there,
But, perhaps, not present
Who has ever been
“There” enough
Enough to see, feel
Enough to be present
Really present?
Was there an awareness
Then as now?
Am I remembering concerns,
Worries, hopes, fears
That weren’t even present then?
Who we are now
Seems so well-defined
Yet all of our past is colored,
Distorted, magnified
By today’s presence
Today’s presence
Erasing yesterday’s being
Yesterday’s being
Amidst today’s remembrances.

 © 2013 Thomas W. Cummins

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February 2, 2013

I visited someone in this assisted-living home yesterday. This poem came rushing back to me.

In a dim light...

A Small Upper Window

A light is seen through the treetops
A small window on an upper floor
It’s late
Someone must be reading
Or can’t sleep
Perhaps an attendant is there
The building looms in the dark
Like a castle
Sitting on a hill
Stories tall and a block long
But that one small window … there’s a light on
I imagine a castle keep
A safe place, caring, secure
Or a tower
A prisoner’s room, lonely, confined
Possibly either or both
Only the occupant knows on a particular day
Maybe that’s my room someday
In that old nursing home on the hill
How will I see things?
Filled with hope and gratitude or despair?
Grace-filled or having been forsaken?
In peaceful surrender or stubborn resistance?
That light, that window
So peaceful looking
Against that immense silhouette
Light does that to darkness
Even the…

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