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O wondrous, wondrous new —
stone pressed from green blue,
red, gray white fragments
appear richer in the sun
and water, cool in my palm
as I wipe sand away, study
your shape, your rough edges
now smooth, test your weight,
wonder of your old, old start,
if there was one at all
or if you have always been
just as you are now
in my hand, in this hand
Poems from in between 
I’ve held stones in this way, wondering at their perfection, while wondering what perfection they left behind.
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Thank you. I am glad this connected with you. I have a jar of favorite stones from a beach we visit. I feel like a little boy who stuffs his pockets with them each visit. Have a great day!
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There is a deep playfulness here, in the sounds and rhythm and sense of wonderment. Just love that opening. I have missed your words these past weeks!
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So glad you liked this.
I am still recovering from a bout of bronchitis. It taught me that I cannot write poetry when I feel yucky. The last month, all I wanted to do is curl up and wait in the corner to die, dog-like.
Happy to finally resurface, though it will take me some time to catch up. Thanks for your patience!
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I must be recovering from stress-brain…at least I hope so…I totally missed this comment until just now. 🙂 Sorry you have been unwell, and I’m sure the yuck weather has not been helpful. Peaceful and healing wishes to you!
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🙂 thanks much!
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A striking Zen like moment. Poetic mindfulness. Loved sharing it with you.
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Thank you! Glad you enjoyed this!
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