sleek tails dusting the surface.
Coal-blackened feet pass over the stones
The stones sense their laughter.
These stones saw everything.
The stones hear their cries.
Ornaments, rocking chairs and mirrors
Stones twine with tree roots,
seek shelter in the earth.
Rainwater washes the stones,
The stones talk to each other:
If you have any comments on this poem, Edwin Stockdale
would be pleased to hear them.