Two Poems by J.M. Summers

The Pebble

It is a simple faith that

it keeps. It sits on the

bookcase now gathering dust,

holding to the memory of salt

water, waves, the horizon further

than the limits it endures,

the crusted, calloused hands

that carved the cross, stark,

white, patient in their work.

The one endures while the

other does not, but the tide

reveals this, the smooth,

unmarked sand, the offerings

it makes, disinterested in

the faith that placed a stone

purposefully, carefully, into

the care of an agnostic deep.

Are These Blessings?

Are these blessings, curses?

With what would you weigh

one against the other?

The starlings' murmuration has

ceased. The time has come to

settle. Driven. These are the

things we cannot understand.

It will be a lonely spring without

the comfort of the longer nights

and shorter days to comfort us.

We are going our separate ways,

abandoned by the faith that once

kept us sound. But questioning still?

Yes, but only of the possibility

that a plan might yet be discerned

in the endurance of blossom budding,

pale, on a bare, brittle branch.

J.M. Summers was born and still lives in South Wales. Previous publication credits include Another Country from Gomer Press and numerous magazines / anthologies. The former editor of a number of small press magazines, he has published one book, Niamh, a collection of prose and poetry.