Like one of the wholesome summer scenes
from a King Novel
the kids splashing in the river
but with their parents hanging around
they’re catching fish
flying high on the rope swing
underpinning it all
are fears more mundane than he could ever conjure
of how I might not get a hug tonight
or when will they figure out
I am totally full of shite
how I should cherish every moment
even when I’m blowing a fucking gasket
on top of that
is getting old
and cautious
no longer brave enough
to routinely feel the wind in my hair
slink off the rope swing
hopefully unseen
grin unabashedly
as my four-year-old show me
how it’s done.



Scott Cumming never considered himself to be a writer until recently, but turns out he has some stuff to say. He has been published at The Daily Drunk, Punk Noir Magazine, Versification, and Shotgun Honey. His poem, “Blood on Snow”, was voted the best of Outcast Press Poetry Things We Carry issue and his debut poetry chapbook is due for release in December. Twitter: @tummidge Website: scottcummingwriter.wordpress.com