Pebbles
Close by the shore at peak of summer’s day
The pebbles flat and small and mostly round
Are chosen, smoothed by salty ocean spray
And flown with flick of wrist and hum of sound
They skip, then enter softly through the glass
Of waters amber brown and brackish blue
Creating on the surface ripples cast
That grow to cleansing waves outside our view.
So our words bravely spoken, clearly marked
When freely tossed into receptive air
Can brighten murky seas of human hearts
And lift the fog of ignorance they bear
For those with open minds we must believe
True words, like pebbles, long to be received
Copyright © Mark Elam | Year Posted 2018
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