David Mcdonald Poems

White stones, once stacked in a tall tower
Overlooking all from a petrified perch,
Are now discolored with age.
Dissolved into yellow sand squeezed between the toes of a toddler.
...

Enormous and round the great mountain rises.
Gray-green with pine and oak and granite.
Static? Hardly. Just slow.
No human can grasp its growth.
...

Love? I loathe the word.
Perhaps the most absurd of our human abstractions.
Up there with hope and fear.
A fabulous cocktail of chemicals stirred up in the insular cortex,
...