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.