April 30, 1993

river washed stones

smooth stones worn small

these words clack softly

i finger them

in mind lips

testing sounds

gentle as aspens whispering

rhythms lost

in shimmering shade

each syllable round little

granite laced with quartz

green bit of serpentine

black chunk of shale

coloring these lines

deep earthen hues

meaning running through

like lines in rock

river washed through me

stones passed to you

in words

finally spoken hear

love pause

to feel their texture

blunt hard

soothing as the stream

-by Joshua Putnam