turning tide

The stony weight of your words

you found whilst scouring the shore-

their worth you’re only just learning,

turning each one of them over,

heeding their shape and their hue

until, hesitantly content, you contemplate

daring to throw them into waves

-dreading the ripples, the

oscillating of a surface you wanted

to keep smooth, letting currents move

beneath, undetected.


In the strength of a turning tide

you consider anonymous depths,

wide-eyed and smiling at the new found

breadth of reach- the distance those

stony words, once weighted, can travel.

You stand at the strand line,

your sigh echoing the surf which

beckons your feet-

your arm lifts, your hand poised

to write ripples.

You throw.


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