Saturday, July 2, 2011

12. Farewell, Stones

Discarded pebbles,
ground up by the Scylla and Charybdis
of Ontario:
remnants lay
upon the eternal patch of ground rock
beneath our feet.

White shards roast,
smooth and benevolent,
worn by the seas.
Whatever dangers lied in the broken bottles
evoke no harm,
tamed by unseeing hands,
sultry amber in the
glinting sun.

Shaven bits sift through the toes
as effortlessly as water, though
erosion shall soon make sure
that even those grains of sun-baked rice
will cease to circulate
amongst the naked
Farewell, stones.

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One Art, to recognize, must be,
Another Art to Praise.

- Emily Dickinson