What the Stones Say
Try to remember to praise the fal’n apart spaces.
The talus and scree that pebble
at your sneakered feet.
The wet-washed walls of water,
splashes of leaves, the lips sunned
and touching your own.
Remember to love the unseen.
The ghost mountains, the butter
glow of flowers to your skin,
the perfect man. Sometimes
things disappear and are still there.
Think about that a long time.
When you can stroke the invisible
streams of water, cloud vapors,
sweet scent of honey left on
stamens, you’ll know what it is
to be found.
Shush. Listen. Don’t be stupid.
Don’t be mean. Don’t be loud.
Isn’t it enough that you leave
tracks wherever you go?
The world will not forget you.
Not even, especially not even,
if you crouch quiet and still.
Frog, mouse, sister stone.
Image of natural rock formation/moss growth. Also, of frog with mouse in its mouth.
Words written at coffee shop.
Time Taken 10 minutes.
Brain on what the stones say.
*note: All poems for the month of April are memoir poems in the form of lists.