At the pebble ridge

All that time we spent

looking for stones –

no, for a stone

the perfect stone,

one small enough

to sit and fit

in your small palm;

maybe cut by a line

something to run

your thumb across;

cool as an ocean

in your pocket.

De is hosting at dVerse, it’s quadrille night, and we poeming about stones.

28 thoughts on “At the pebble ridge

  1. Oh I’ve done this with my kids so many times, Sarah – you describe it so perfectly. To them, stones are treasures, they would bring the whole beach home if they could!


  2. I wear a ring of polished stone. Amazing what the most ordinary rock becomes shining glory when polished. You describe the art of stone-search so well!


  3. There were some years, when I was most heart-centered, most attuned, when I found heart-shaped rocks everywhere. Sigh. I miss those days.


  4. I too have been attracted to various stones. Often, I will see faces in them which to me is the spirit of the stone. I wonder if we ever find the perfect stone, perhaps, the stone is perfect in that moment.


  5. I have always collected rocks and carried a stone in my pocket. It is a comfort.
    I guess that is why I was drawn to these lines,
    “one small enough
    to sit and fit
    in your small palm;”


  6. I’m smiling here….thinking of the days of walking with my young grandchildren, and my two children in their very young days…..stooped over, looking for the perfect pebble. It always seemed that they found so many….we always had to have a small pail! 🙂 Innocent times. Love this poem.


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