Pebbles in the lake are
Children of boulders
Sinking to the sand and
Seeing hazy sunlight
Through the surface.
Segmented beams
Become a glow at night
For those embedded,
Unable to escape.
We dream in stasis
As the fish swim by
And divers brush their hands;
Bring warmth in long,
Forgotten crevices.
Nice, languorous pace. Good rhythm control.
ReplyDeleteDamn, now I want to go fishing and rock-skipping. My husband used to take me fishin', but as I always outfished him, he no longer wanted to take me and it's no fun alone. I grew up on Red River and began fishin' at age 6 with my Uncle Warner who ran nets on the River and sold fish commercially. I still prefer a cane pole and worms to rod & reels. Thanks for the memories your write brought to my mind. xo
ReplyDeleteJack: Thanks, Jack. You really understand mechanics :)
ReplyDeleteMarion: You have such interesting stories about the South.
Nice again, good one :)
ReplyDeleteI like Ben!
ReplyDeleteThank you Shreya, Wander and Berlinerin :)
ReplyDeleteReally love this one, Ben! I've always thought that Pebbles was too cute :)
ReplyDeleteOh yes, as is Bam Bam :-)
ReplyDelete