Shore Lines
Poetry of the Eastern Shore
by Vincent MacDonald

A Cycle of Seasons

POND

It made me feel

As though I was something

Part of this living diorama

Looking at the diamond studded heavens

The feeling of being someone

Grew stronger in the dark of night

A deep breath of fragrance

Filled me with reverence for

The floating perennials

The blazing whiteness of the stars

Were a perfect backdrop

For my drifting thoughts

I stop, startled, through the darkness

A fawn had tiptoed to

The edge of the pond to drink

Silently I waited, no movement

Finishing imbibing the soft water

It glanced at me unhesitantly

Then quietly made its way

Back into the woods, a walking beauty

One of the Creator's best.

CHANGE

 Brilliant colors now

    clothe fading trees

Exciting reds among

    quiet shades of brown

All tints of green

    and shades of blazing orange

One last display before

    each leaf whirls down

 The morning grass is wet

    as though with tears

Lamenting the demise

    of summer reign

It is now a case

    of status quo

 Until sweet summer comes to

    reclaim its domain

FROM OUT OF THE SHADOWS

 How enveloping the night shadows seem

    Compelling walls to fade away

The scythe of loneliness cuts its swath

    Images float in sad display.

 Gaunt faces of fear haunt the empty street

    They mirror a growing despair

Distant memories return, mist doleful eyes

    When hapless thoughts stand alone, bare.

 As the silence of dusk slowly settles

    Poignant cries from pain's inner force

Keep echoing from tortured, deadened lives

    Reaching to quell hate that mars their course.

 Concerned fingers of light must fan the clouds

    Covering he that mourns his life

To signal it is not the final hour

    For there are those who feel their strife.

 As the ocean ripples and new waves form

    The sun will touch their tips with white

Then minds will dispel abject thoughts

    Help disperse the darkness from their plight.