Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal


Jim Carson

Nestled in the bosom of the tall pines slicing through the mists of the Blue Ridge
Creaking and groaning from the weight of winter’s white burden
Beside the icy streams rushing frantically down to the next cascade

Inside the ruts of the dusty road from nowhere to anywhere
Past the earthbound clouds of cotton ramshackle wooden bridge
Over the tepid brown waters whispering slowly

To a final resting place with no sense of urgency

Treading softly on the sponge of the land of the trembling earth
Perfect reflections in mirror lakes of cypress knees
Hollow hallowed silence echoing with life curious to see the interloper
In their sacred spaces

In the shade of the bearded live oak caressed by the Spanish moss tickled
By the breeze gazing at the infinite sea of marsh tangled in the pungent salt air
I watch the majesty of impossible hues as the sun loses it’s daily battle with nightfall

There you’ll find my soul


James E. Carson, Jr. is an architect and aspiring poet and composer living in Atlanta with his wife, daughter, and wonder dog. His poems have been published at


© Jim Carson

Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal ISSN 1554-8449, Copyright © 2004-2008