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