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As I move, the trees Filter the sun’s vain attempt At spoiling my run© 2012 Thomas W. Cummins
Posts Tagged ‘poetry’
Go out early; beat the heat
July 2, 2012North Woods Reflection – post 4
June 20, 2012One morning around 5:30 I walked down to the lake’s edge – just for the heck of it – and my mouth literally dropped open:
Island stands ablaze Amidst a steamy pink fog Lit by rising sun© 2012 Thomas W. Cummins
North Woods Reflections – post 3
June 20, 2012An involuntary reaction to nature’s conspiracy against my particular morning mood:
Sunrise, long shadows Lake as glass, birds are singing I laugh – such beauty!© 2012 Thomas W. Cummins
North Woods Reflections – post 2
June 20, 2012Every single morning at the lake is a different experience.
Creeping around trees Fog crawls off the placid lake And adds a gray hue© 2012 Thomas W. Cummins
North Woods Reflections – post 1
June 20, 2012During our time in the north woods, there were many opportunities to simply pause and reflect. I was able to note and capture a few.
Our arrival after a long winter of the lake home’s having sat dormant, all systems drained, electricity off, is always a little unwelcoming. A reminder that we are occasional guests in an environment which seems to prefer that we not come at all.
This haiku quartet comes from that first encounter of spring:
Haiku Quartet – Somber Post-winter Visit
No one has been here Scattered twigs and limbs, long grass Winter’s toll taken Loneliness engulfs The cabin down by the lake Idle since last fall Slow, persistent rain Gentle breeze shakes heavy drops From leaves overhead Solitary loon Indifferent, unaware Fishes near the shore© 2012 Thomas W. Cummins
This Door That Separates Us
May 14, 2012The other day I was speaking with an offender who has been in solitary isolation in one institution or another for more than three decades. I’ve known him for 11 years. Here is my poetic reflection on the essence of a big portion of our conversation.
“You relate differently, Differently from others I mean.” He was being serious Observant After many years Many years alone In his cell for many years Alone. I replied, “I believe I spend My belief is that I spend Much time while we talk On your side of this door This door that separates us.” (How can I explain The door? How the door is not as real As one might expect Somehow I place myself Through the door On the other side as we talk Through the door This door that separates us.) “Empathy?” he asks. “No. More of a resonance A willingness to enter Your existence Your existence is something To feel I am willing to consider and to feel Your existence Your side of the door.” © 2012 Thomas W. Cummins
In a dim light... 