Ethereal Moments The Poetry of Donavon Scott Vinson
The Walk
A morose,unsmiling moon fills the darkness with it's cold,pale light.
Expunging all joy from my hapless heart.
Fictive howls fill my uncertain ears as I travel down this dark fiddle wood lined path.
Excruciating fear overtakes me removing all calmness from my worried soul.
I journey farther into the craggy mountains my mind reeling from agonizingly real phantoms
that flutter through my shaky senses.
My eyes become dulled and fallible seeing shimmering ghosts where only the wavering shadows
of the tall fiddle woods blowing in the breeze stand in silent accusation on this eerie night.
Fearfully I begin to search for a safe place to make camp for the night and build a cheery comforting fire
to calm my rattled nerves and relieve me from the demons that haunt me so on this lonely night.
Alas no campsite can I find so I journey onward into the dark cold night.
Until miles later a worthy site is found relieving me of my fears and allowing me to rest my weary bones.
Safe at last from the fearful demons of my fertile imagination.
Donavon Scott Vinson