S is for Stone

 (c) 2005

I want to tell you about the Stone in my shoe,

the skipped stone once submerged in the lake bottom

It accompanies me. I have named this stone, Stone.

This stone was the heaviest of two dropped from a bridge.

Though both splashed simultaneously the lighter

was the stone to be envied. A stone light enough to shoulder.

Stone requires fortitude to hurl away.

God knows I know it. Its gray contains variations

that saturation, night, or depths disguise.

Palmed closed to the eye

Stone speckles salt and pepper as my moods.

I have missed few opportunities to analyze this stone.

It cannot be ground to dust by will alone.

Fire will not burn it. It resists polish and bears no usefulness

except to be wedged into my sole.