For a pebble is nothing, a fleck, a
speck,
easily held in the hand and tossed
from palm to palm. But this trifle
can bring down a forest--
The hilltop, long still, then
jolted: hop, skip,
rattle, a shower, a crowd, a
torrent, the crash
of avalanche. Such smashing
asunder, subtlety thrown
out in thunderous rush as the
pebble roars
with his million brothers. How to
destroy
ten centuries’ growing? One
frenzied ounce
of stone changing potential.
Chaos starts small
But pebbles cannot build a temple:
cornerstones are made of sterner stuff.
Massively shaped with blade and
roughed,
smoothed, and never tossed, instead:
Abiding.
(Oct. 20, A.D. 2016)
