Wet Stones


I might
just sit here
one morning…

If it isn’t too cold,

and count these stones…
one by one…


green ones,
maybe the white ones,
especially the brown ones like your eyes
winking back at me…
Shells here and there
with the black stones…
the red stones,
the orange ones that mix in with grey ones
that emerge from the grey concrete
that holds these hand made terracotta bricks
now so firm and solid…


I might just pretend
I’m at my favorite ragged West coast beach…
and collect all of you
into the pockets of my mind,
sifting back and forth
like the waves that take me
into the vast ocean of myself…
Each stone
a step into this moment,
this color dancing
of wet Winter delight…


Colored stones of my Santa Rosa Labyrinth
now revealed, the haze of concrete washed away
by Bill Domenichelli and crew...

Labyrinths, PoetryLea6 Comments