Wet Stones
JANUARY 10, 2011
_I might_
_just sit here_
_one morning…
_
_If it isn’t too cold,_
_and count these stones…_
_one by one…_
_green ones,_
_maybe the white ones,_
_especially the brown ones like your eyes_
_winking back at me…_
_Shells here and there_
_with the black stones…_
_the red stones,_
_the orange ones that mix in with grey ones_
_that emerge from the grey concrete_
_that holds these hand made terracotta bricks_
_now so firm and solid…_
I might just pretend
I’m at my favorite ragged West coast beach…
and collect all of you
into the pockets of my mind,
sifting back and forth
like the waves that take me
into the vast ocean of myself…
Each stone
a step into this moment,
this color dancing
splendor
of wet Winter delight…
Colored stones of my Santa Rosa Labyrinth
now revealed, the haze of concrete washed away
by Bill Domenichelli and crew...