Bend at the waist and turn of the head, eyes aligned with
horizon’s bend.
Stone in the hand, smooth and flat, perfectly rounded and
carefully picked.
The mist that rests upon the water like glass, so still and
clear you could see your face.
Then arm pulled back and the eyes narrow as stone, propelled
towards the lake,
gently kisses the water….again….and again…until its flight
dips below the surface
as gravity pulls it down.
Yet hidden from sight, still the ripples it makes, spread
out from each kiss
making ripples and patterns that overlay and mingle
together.
Sacred One, makes ripples in our settled soul, disturb our
stayed and set out ways.
As the skimming stone flies across the water stir us up to
gather together,
to collect our carefully chosen stones and throw them again
into the water.
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