Rainbow Obsidian

After midnight,
Quiet after the
Busy-ness of day
Except the howling of
One train, and
One dog.

originally posted at A River of Stones 31 January 2011 19:17

Cold Stone

Thoughts,
Feelings
Weighing heavily.
Hoping beyond Hope -
PRAYING -
That this time
I'm wrong.

Chalcedony

Gray-blue clouds
Painted pink highlights
Sunset on the road.

Tree Agate

Winter bare sumacs
Still show mounded copse,
But the heart is exposed:
Ash junipers, evergreen.

Carnelian

Brown Autumn
Sleeping in the sun
On the roof of the doghouse.
Warm in the late
January afternoon.

Jasper

Late afternoon on the interstate
A hawk flies up from behind the barricade,
Flashing gorgeous red tail.
Did he capture dinner?

Snowflake Obsidian

Gray tom runs to tree.
Crow calls out while flying from
Different tree,
Joined by another, silent crow.

Rocks Don't Hear

When did we stop listening?
"She never turned it in."
"I drove her here to turn it in."
"It's not in the system, so she didn't turn it in."
"Why didn't she turn in the form for so long?"
"I saved the stuff for her to pick up when she would visit."
"Why didn't she change it?"
"Because she lives 250 miles away."
"She can go to any post office to turn in the form."
"Oh. Okay."
All I wanted to do was buy stamps.

Banded Agate

Lines of clouds race across the sky
Caught between southwestern wind and
Northern cold front.

Rhodonite

Shrill alarm clock on Saturday morning.
Thin pink line at horizon with
Pale blue sky above trees.
Crows clamoring for the sunrise
Take flight from their roost
Into the new day.

Howlite

An island of ice
Floats in full wheelbarrow.
Unmelted despite
Afternoon well above freezing.
Shadows retain frigid hold.

Granite

A mad melody played upon the windchimes
Against the bass line of the rushing North Wind.
The heat left the day before
The sun climbed above the trees,
Hidden behind a coverlet of clouds
Until late afternoon.
The wind is still playing with the windchimes
Now under the clear, bright moon.

Opal

Cloud-hazed full moon
Limns oak branches in magic.
Only in winter.

Tumbling Stones

Words,
Yesterday's, today's,
Rolling around in my mind.
Could yesterday's have been
Polished more?
Will today's be
Enough.
All sharp edges
Worn down
Without losing meaning, yet
Still shining.

Agate

Full moon shining.
Winter fields contrasts in
Gray and black.
Silver droplets enshroud grass
Brown during daylight.
Mystery and magic
Await at the crossroads.
Welcome to the
Night.

Fire Opal

Flames leaping upward
Log burning brighter at ends
Center lasts longest.

Smoky Quartz

Through cold, heavy drizzle
Sharp scent of wood smoke in car
Aroma brings warmth

Thrown Rock

Evidently, two spaces after a period to end a sentence is the wrong way to do it. Today is the first time I've heard why, but it's only the second time I've heard of it being a problem. I'm 49 years old, learned how to type on a manual typewriter in the spring of 1978, and didn't use computers to do much typing until 1987. Admittedly, two spaces after a period on the computer screen often looks weird, but is it really something to get your panties in a wad about? Aren't there more important things to get upset about?

Rock

Cold
Creeps in,
Wrapping around my
Ankles and arms
While the heater
Isn't running.

Crystal

Ice crystals cover
Tabletop and boards of deck
Untouched by sunlight.

Gravel

North wind on bright day,
Windchimes ringing on front porch.
Big guns in distance.
Occasional bass accent,
Musical meditation.

Marble

Gray day, and
Cold.
No sun.
No moon.
Time to
Crawl into
Bed, and
Hibernate.

Rolling stone

As one light fades
Another takes its place.
We are never completely
In the dark.
We only need
Open our eyes to
See.

Roc Day

Turn the spindle,
Hold the twist.
Draft wool into yarn.
Repeat.
Listen to circle of
Wheels whirring, and
Laughter.
Games!
Laughter.
Door Prizes!
Ooooo. Aaaaaah.
What fibers are these?
No peeking! Fingers only!
Pleased with 3 of 5 correct.
Shopping!
More yarn spinning.
Dispersal to homes.
See you next year!

Written in Stone?

I made a commitment to write a
Small stone each day in January.
Many others have, too.
By the end of the month,
Each person will have xir own
Tributary;
All joining to create a
Mighty river,
Written in stones.

Skipping Stone

Reach to the ceiling.
Acknowledge four walls.
Spiral energy from center to
Above, then below.
Listen.
Thank teachers, and ancestors, and
Those within these walls.
Gather everything back to center.
Begin.

Another Pebble

Sometimes, you don't know which genes got passed to you until your parents have been dead for years.

Next stone

Fur silken soft
Purr rumbling deeply
Teeth flashing on hand
Reminder of wild ancestors

Pebble

Mind Alive

I may be pushing 50,
I may have been with the
Same person for over 25 years,
But I still enjoy
Eye candy.

Next stone

Drip. Drop. Drip drop drip.
Even here, winter sends fingers
Looking to freeze pipes.

My First Small Stone

My daughters, 9 and 7, do not like the taste of alcohol. It reminds me that I did not like the taste of alcohol when I was young, either. Tastes, both physical and non-physical, change as we age and mature. What is unpleasant in one context, may be pleasant in another.