Stones (for Janis)
As a child,
I tossed stones over
the pond on the far side of the south pasture,
Washington with a dirty face -
dollar bills across the Delaware,
Sergeant Rock with a runny nose -
rockets across the DMV,
General Grant in short pants -
messages by pigeon from Shilo.
a small boy
throwing rocks across a muddy water hole.
And older,
I skipped stones
on the lake a short hike north of town,
flat rocks best
for 3 hops,
4,
even 5
to impress Rosie,
visiting from West Virginia with her Aunt Ora,
but if I skipped 4,
Rosie could do 5,
always one more
until she got bored and went for a swim
in her underwear,
a skinny boy
who could not swim left on the shore.
And older,
hand in hand with Judy,
I collected stones
on the shore of Dogfish Bay,
spiral designs,
mica flakes,
red and brown agates
with salmon, bear and elk
captured on their surface
to sit with tea-cups and cut glass,
be our worry stone,
hold doors open,
gather dust in an unused fountain,
and remind me
of when I was a skinny boy
and walked
hand in hand with Judy
before I become an old man
too tired to gather the rocks
and place them on Judy's grave
where they really belong.
And elderly,
I kick stones
down the driveway in my slippers
on the way to get the mail,
a skinny boy trapped inside,
still skipping stones across a pond.
November with Janet from Oz at: http://gardawg.homestead.com/homestead.html,
Submissions: http://www.writershood.com/index.html
Poets for Peace. ˇPoemas sí, balas no!
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