[Poem] Summer Stone
Summer Stone A small ocean on my lap purring b lack slumber’s cat brine And out the window, b uoyant whales buzzing drowsy, sweet from flowers To sun’s lingering pink kiss; These small, spiced lords engorged with warmth, Confident in their sunrise a nd their sting I am no lord, though I, too, want to drink down this disappearing June sky that tickles my heels and Pulls me to the heavens Where I dare not live I peer further and see a wall of rocks standing quiet watch moss blue, gray, brown, and green humming the fermata of the dying summer day I envy these rocks As they weather the whip of your approaching fog— Cold, unrelenting, and darkest white— Hoping that, in time, the sun’s rays, oh the sun’s rays Will favor their dark depths again And green buds will tickle their hardened shores There they sit, steady and unflinching, content to hold on to the bruised sky’s brief warmth, And hold
