Monday, January 30, 2012

Noon
When I was a boy I found a stone as smooth as a small poem. I tossed it up and down, catching it in my hand. It slipped from my weary fingers and fell into a shallow pond. The perfect ripples became wider and wider as the stone rested on sand as bright as gold. Now that I am older I know what I would do. I would blend my hand in the water and pick up the stone as a haiku. Then it would lay upon a gleaming shore and dry in the noon sun.

4 comments:

Annie said...

This is such a gorgeous piece. I know I'll keep on thinking about it through my day. Thanks.

Old Ollie said...

This is stone smooth poem.

hawaii helicopter tours said...

Natural talent. Keep it up.

Suporna Roy said...

Very Nice Blog !
I Like This Very Much.
Methods of Modern Farming