Gift of Rocks

The gift of Rocks It is a lovely warm forenoon I`m walking around just outside the village the wayside and filed are full of flowers in greenness this will not last long and heat will turn the landscape into yellowish dejection and the foliage on trees will lose the brilliance, what remains are stones a landscape littered with rocks, houses are made of stone as are fences picked up from the earth and made into homes and enclosures backbreaking work but the builders didn`t have watches; how beautiful water from the well must have tasted. There are many shades of grey I prefer the dark ones, where I grew up the landscape was littered with dark rocks, come to think of it I didn`t move far, yet there is something safe about stones and boulders they will not leave tomorrow as my youth did.