Shattered Stones

The rock wasn’t always.
It was part of a whole. Larger than.
A mountain of age worn worry
Shorn from self to tumble down its cliff.
Cascading and careening in thunderous echos
With an avalanche of sound surrounding.
It lands at last and looks around
Counting all the pebbles it shed.

24 comments

          1. I feel incredibly privileged to be reading your work in this way. I have noticed that is has given me a new perspective on my own writing; I was working on poetry yesterday and found myself trying new things, embracing new rhythms. It is proving to me, yet again, how important reading is for writing.

            Liked by 1 person

              1. I am so incredibly thankful every day, to have been able to make writing a full time endeavor. I don’t know how you manage to write as much as you do; Bojana commented about your being prolific and she is so right.

                Liked by 1 person

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