Fragility and the Endurance of Stone

When the winds howl down through the pine tree tops,
rain in deluge and riding down the trunk,
my mind screaming that enough is enough,
I break way, crack clay, am left to tilt and sway.

There you may find me digging up stones, stones left by glacier,
muck embedded stones,
and me wearing mud like I belonged in the soil
for each holds a promise and every one held true.

And when I finish counting out all the little stones, sorting by color
storing in a bucket, then you will see me dressed as I am
drenched through to bone
wearing only land.

Here will I pleasure, here rests my eyes,
finding gems to uncover, silicone or sand.
Building bridges to nowhere just so I can stand.
Building bridges to nowhere so may I have a choice.

If only peace had such uncertain goal,
no troll would lie beneath, feeling right at home.
If only love would touch me so concrete,
I'd hold you in my arms and never beg retreat.

Such is the way of the sundered under bliss
to find hope of morning, growing hyacinths and ferns.
Soon you will join me on the pathway to bridge
counting all the stones, as if each held a kiss.

And there you might find me, plucking hyacinth pearls
sniffing coils of longing, scattering them atilt.
For choice is an answer complete in its own self --
one way today, another a different way.

For all of them hold life vining deep down inside
thanking them for water, thanking them for stones.
For a kiss holds all of time engraved deep inside stone
where nowhere is beginning and nowhere is the end.

* Written in the poetry contest at Zorpia
* Mica fractures on one plane and is relatively soft, 2.5 on the Mohs hardness scale