Stones, banked up
by the sea’s edge.

children stumble along them,
buckets clutched  in hand,

 seek the secret stones
that glitter with crystal,

red stones veined with iron,
yellow and white striped stones

shaped like a wave,
green stones, covered in algae,

magic stones,
holed right through

or chalk white stones
imprinted with the echo

of a sponge that died
when the Sun was young;

a treasury of stones,
as abundant as apples

who lie quiet in the moon’s silver
at midnight’s low tide,

were hurled like bubbles
in shaken bottle;

tumbled smooth as glass
by a winter’s storm.

These stones to be washed
in a pink plastic bucket,

placed on slate step
to gleam in the sun.

They lie silent,
mute as bone,

but speak
a fantasia

in a child’s
open palm.


About Lupine Collides

Poetry, theatre, music, gardens. What binds these things is a love of images and sound, and the desire to make a doorway between the imaginal world and everyday.
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