© 2012 Thomas W. Cummins
Posts Tagged ‘spirituality’
Bleak Morning Reverie
November 5, 2012
——
Rain dripping slowly
Fallen leaves receive, glisten
Grace-filled solitude
Analemma
July 18, 2012
Analemma
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
Recalling a meditative chant
July 4, 2012I don’t know where this stuff comes from, things that wander into my head and won’t leave.
On this 4th of July, I am – for some reason – recalling a meditative chant on Psalm 46:10, “Be still, and know that I am God!”
Be still, and know that I am God
Be still, and know that I am
Be still, and know
Be still
Be
Snow On The Mesa
April 27, 2012
Snow on the mesa
The desert monastery
Lies asleep below
© 2012 Thomas W. Cummins
A Hike at a Bluff’s Edge
April 24, 2012
An apparent pause
Pulls the trail to the bluff’s edge
Ancient, carved limestone
Overlooking the river winding far below
Loose gravel invites a peek
Beauty fills with fleeting terror
In my throat
A metallic tingle holds me still
Behind and away the path descends
Through deep forest ravines
A lone woodpecker’s distant tap
Reveals a welcoming and comforting silence
© 2012 Thomas W. Cummins
A Small Upper Window
April 15, 2012A 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 Stone 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 smallest glow Brings reflection, imaginings, questions© 2012 Thomas W. Cummins
In a dim light... 
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