Thursday, March 10, 2011

Thursday Poem - Geology

Place a stone in the palm of your hand;
it lies there, inert, nothing but itself.
It revels in its stoniness, its solidity.
It gathers light, rises from the plains,
a mountain in miniature, notches and ridges
carved by weather, strata and stria,
the pressure of time, the rough places,
planed. A climber might try for the pinnacle,
looking for toeholds in cracks and crevasses.
The way up is never easy. The air thins.
From the peak, the horizon falls away.
Borders are meaningless. The stone rests in your hand.
It sings its one long song. Something about eternity.
Something about the sea.

Barbara Crooker

4 comments:

One Woman's Journey said...

I love this poem. I have a similar platter with stones in it on my terrace :)

Chris said...

I love rocks...beautiful photo! I collect heart shaped rocks...they are such a treasure to find! :)

the wild magnolia said...

"It sings its one long song. Something about eternity!" I adore these words.

Love the photo, love stones, period!

Blessings, magnolia

hip-chick said...

there is a great children's book by Byrd Baylor about pebbles. I love your picture. They look as if they have been frosted.