Water spiraled out in rings
Like the ones in the trees
Like the ones in my head
Climbing up and fading back into itself
Reaching for any break in the routine
I ran rough fingers
Over the smoothest rock I could find,
A flawless grey lost in a mob of
Blemished red and orange
It was hidden deep,
Down by the cool earth
Down where no sunlight could reach
Thumb and index gripping both sides
A flick of the wrist my father taught me
I broke the surface with a plunk,
I threw myself into the river,
I skimmed the surface for a time
Until my momentum slowed
And I sank to the bottom
Tangled in a plastic bag
Tangled in some odds and ends
Oh wow, this is great. You caught me with the opening lines comparing water rings to tree rings. I’d never thought of that. But reading this, for a moment, I soared as a stone, so for me the imagery here was very good. I envy poets!
Thank you, Lisa!! So happy to know I had you soaring, even briefly. Something like that, you know, is what all us writers love to hear! 🙂
I liked this!
Thank you, Edward!
You’re welcome! Exclamation!
!!!!!! !
Beautiful and haunting.
Thank you for the kind words! 🙂