Sunday, July 06, 2008


Down among the tall stones, the silent stones
surrounded by the standing worshipful stones, there's a spring of clean water
and the bright cold water flows over gold-flecked sands
over sand flecked with olivine and tiny prehistoric shells
that whisper the echoes of an ocean that was millions and millions of years
before the layer of columnar basalt was laid down
before the basalt was fractured into vertical pillars and flutes
and the tall pillars tumbled and rose to stand around the cold spring
where the shells keep whispering whispering whispering into the
worshipful ear of stone.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside


Pam said...

This is absolutely wonderful. Makes me think of the Giant's Causeway. The poem resonates with stone and silence.

Jill said...

If only those rocks could tell the stories they have witness!