The Joy Of Collecting Stones

I like to collect little stones and pebbles at the beach
I dig down deep into the sand, as far as I can reach
Beneath the bobbing water that laps about my ears
I search for sunken treasures; stuff lost among the years


I pull up a wet hand full of sand and silt and stone
Emerging like Leviathan to show what Time has thrown
Into the murky waters of the rivers, lakes and streams
I un-baptize martyred stones, wake them from their dreams


I’ll often find one granite rough, some limestone or some shale
Or find a kind I do not know, all yellowish and pale
Sometimes it’s quartz or marble, with flashing glints of black
I keep the ones that catch my eye; the others I throw back


The stones I find are rather small, no bigger than my hand
Although, on some occasions, I’ll dig deep in the sand
To uncover a larger rock, forgotten and unseen
I pull it free to see its face, to ask it where it’s been


I like the ones all striped with white, or colored deep and red
Or ones with many layers from an ancient river’s bed
Sometimes I’ll find a stick or twig, sometimes a bit of bone
Or fossils from another time, forever framed in stone


I put them in my pockets and forget them for awhile
Until I find them there again; again they make me smile
Not much of a collection, kept in pockets, then in drawers
I only know they’re special. Here’s mine, now show me yours