Pebbles are miraculous.
Something in sea-smoothed stones longs for my hand—
restless ocean offspring absorbing stress like heat,
like moisture. Hours dissolve searching for promising
colors, patterns and shapes revealing the planet’s mysteries.
Teetering at the surf’s cobbled edge, waves draw stones
to shore, withdrawing them again, endlessly
chattering like muffled applause or distant firecrackers
celebrating the polish of blind persistence.
Rocks bulging in pockets, I walk awkwardly along
the sand, weighted with worthless treasures striped
and swirled, banded, stippled with soft hued crystals
of ancient violence. I’m balanced with ballast.
(from Tinker's Damn, Homebound Publications, 2013)