Ethereal Moments The Poetry of Donavon Scott Vinson
Solitude
I lie upon a soft bed of pine needles
under the cool silvery harvest moon
gazing at the bright shimmering stars
as my warm campfire blazes casting
shimmering shadows upon my tent.
My mind wanders through fond memories
of the adventures of my youth, and
all of the stress from adulthood
is gently washed away in quiet solitude.
Donavon Scott Vinson