The Communities of Eastern Kings

The Communities of Eastern Kings
Prince Edward Island

Musings on Life in
Eastern Kings
My Beach
Susan L. C. Leard
It was a warm night, in the middle of June. I found myself slowly walking along the long stretch of white sandy beach. I enjoyed the feel of the sand beneath my feet, listening to the relaxing sound of the waves gently roll on the shore, and watching the dozens, then hundreds of stars twinkling at me in the night, just behind the setting sun.
As I walked along, I slowly drug my feet, not to slow my progress, but to listen to the sweet, wonderful sound of the sand singing as I take step - after step, after step. I looked towards the west and saw a sunset that could warm even the coldest heart. The many colours of yellow, pink, orange, red, and purple set beyond the red cliffs, the white dunes, and the brilliant blue of the ocean.
On the cliff was a grove of trees, which cast shadows upon the beach. As the sun set they took many interesting forms as the clouds do during the day. With each shadow, they leave you guessing as to what shape they are forming or what magical mystery that they hold beneath their wings.
Above a seagull cried as it searched the beach and the surface of the Strait for it's lunch. As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, the stars began to show in the hundreds, then in the thousands. After a while the full moon with it's own beautiful colors started to rise, seemingly out of the water. The colours of the waves turned from the white and navy blue to a bright orange to fire red, finally to the beautiful white. The stars slowly faded as the bright light began to guide my path as I continued walking. I listened to the water, lapping onto the shore. As the waves broke on the sand, it sounded like a rhythmic song, with the little waves at my feet and also the high waters lapping up against the breakwater back in the distance.
As I continued, I came to my favourite spot just below the dunes, where I could see the moon, the ocean and some of the stars. It was majestic. I closed my eyes and imagined someone, somewhere else, looking at the glowing orb. All the lights from the surrounding houses and cars were blocked out. All I saw was a wonderful, majestic beauty. As the moon rose some of the stars became brighter, and visible again to the naked eye. I eased back in the sand and looked for the constellations, uninterrupted by blinking Trans-Atlantic flights.
My senses began to hear nature - the peepers, the bark of a fox in the dunes, the howl of a lonesome coyote, a cry of a gull up past his bedtime. As the time passed, the temperature slowly lowered to where it would sit for the whole of the night. It was June. There was still a chill in the air.
Reluctantly I arose and packed my belongings, careful not to leave litter to mar the landscape. I slowly scuffed my feet in the sand and walked back to my van. At the top of the bridge, I looked back, smiled and thought how a peaceful evening at my beach took away my cares and worries. I looked all around to capture the moment, store it within my memories, so in the years to come, I will relate it to my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
With a deep breath of the night air and now refreshed, I hurried home to share the benefits of my evening with those I love.
- Susan Leard is native of Prince Edward Island and a resident of Kingsboro. She is a graduate of Holland College.
The Tired House
Waldron H. Leard
This old house, tired and worn
Sad, lonely and forlorn
It has seen joy and sorrow
The visitor wonders - will it see tomorrow?
The roof sags,
The curtains are now rags
The young farmer built it for his bride
With anticipation and pride
The impressed young lass
Felt this house would be at the head of the class
Never would she roam
For she was provided with a home
She never tarried
And willingly married
Love was made within the walls
Soon were heard the children's calls
They lived daily off the sea and the land
And thought it was grand
At night, life was in the kitchen with a fiddle
And sometimes - a riddle
When times got tough
And life got rough
There was always sorrow
When they were forced to borrow
There was joy - there was laughter
That would ring from rafter to rafter
There were tears when she was forced to bake
For little Jimmy's wake
The children grew strong
And in their parent's eyes could do no wrong
They sent them to school where they would rate
But no work saw the young ones leave for a Boston State
The call of away
saw them all stay
In the factories and the mills
Of away to help pay the bills
As the farmer and the lass aged and tired
Life got better as the house got wired
Along came the lights and the phone
And they didn't feel quiet so alone
Alas the time came when life ran its course
And their earthly remains went to the church led by the horse
The children were happy away
And the old house began to decay
Now tired and forlorn
The visitor wonders - who will mourn . . .
- Waldron H. Leard, was born in Souris.
He is a historian, freelance writer
and storyteller. He resides in
Kingsboro.
Sunset
Kelsey Cheverie
I stood with you,
a friend of mine
on the beach
until it was time
The sky went red
swirled with orange and pink
The clouds gave off a tint
And the sun started to shrink.
The sunset to me
means no matter how crappy
your day came to be
When you watch it, you will always be happy.
- Kelsey Cheverie is a resident of East Point. She is a
student and an active member of her community.

A Tired House in Clear Springs
Foggy June Eve
Shane MacClure

I like to walk
the sea-bitten rocks
in the veil of fog
below the red cliffs
Where the mist lies so thick
that all is hidden
but the very next step
and the sound of the waves.
I enjoy the peace
as I scramble and stop
now and then to see
the progress I've made.
But the haze closes in
on the path behind ...
I notice the snails
resting over the tide.
I raise my eyes
to view the lights glimmer
on one sleepy town
in the blanket of gray.
And homeward I climb
to ease through the green grass,
rain-covered and wet,
this foggy June eve.
- Shane MacClure is a native and resident
of Souris. He is a Teacher at Souris Regional
High School.
A Winter Night (in Souris P.E.I.)
John Ellis

Remembering the sensation of stomping snow from my boots, being welcomed into the warmth of the kitchen, the old house creaking under the weather outside, brittle windowpanes rattling with all of natures' fury… Once inside I could fully appreciate the low winter sun, lighting up the snowy blast along Main Street, and after discarding layers of cold wet clothes I settle in front of the fire; where thick woolen socks steamed for half the night.
The crackling stove threw out its heat six feet or more and lit up our red faces, coaxing us back and forth with its erratic heat waves, kitchen delights drafted through and around our laughter and tears, and me not wanting time to stop… True friends with jars full, guitars tuned up and voices wide-open, harmonies powerful enough to heal the most troubled soul... Happiness smiled its beautiful Island face all around that cozy parlour, while the difficult world "from away" kept a safe distance far beyond the harbour light.
There were no locks on this hidden treasure "Souris By The Sea", and a trusting heart was always found open for this "Born Again Islander". Curiosity was your welcome, sincerity your warmth, and your kind frankness held me much longer than planned… Final departures would be imminent however, and one's heart would have a new struggle to content with; how to say farewell to such a force of friends, it's been impossible so far.
- John Ellis is a native of Manchester, England. He is a Musician and a Recording Artist. John and his family resided in Souris for several years. His mother Nora peacefully rests in St. Mary's Cemetery, Souris. John is currently a resident of British Columbia.
Copyright
Waldron H. Leard
ekpei.ca
Eastern Kings Writing
Musings
Part II
Musings
Part III
Musings
Part IV
Musings
Part V
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