I was inspired by Livinginwilloughby to pick up some poetry books from the library this past Sunday.

The book I picked for me is Counting the Waves by Deborah Cummings

If a Single Word

If a single word has the power to transform,                                                                                                         

I’d have to propose choice.

I’d have to consider how Lot’s wife turned back,

her small glance all she needed,

knowing where to look among the towers for her house

where once she sang,spun cloth.

Tonight, walking the streets of my neighborhood,

I must consider as well my ancestral mothers

who delivered me here, who, after

their trunks were stowed, all children

accounted for,stood at the railing and watched 

the shores of their homeland recede.

Here, where I live, no street name or sign or yard

is unfamiliar. I’m free

to contemplate every aspect of shadow

as darkeness descends early in late autumn,

free to stand here on my small piece of ground,

considering my house’s open door, its windows

lit against the night, and , if not transformed,

know gratitude, adding mine


There are others that I will come back and share later. The littles are being 1 and 3 so I have to stop here for now.


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