Stones
Draw near and listen—
the interminable din—
thunderous and raging,
spindrift riven from
graybeards’ snowy crests,
that plunge at journey’s end,
their whitest teeth laid bare,
to gnash with boundless fury
on patient rampart of
unyielding stones,
their mottled skin
to smooth and polish,
that these might stand,
in reverent alarm,
never to be forgotten.
Copyright © Mark Peterson | Year Posted 2013
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