What Stones Tell
What stones tell
I followed a track in the landscape, rocks dug up
clay clings to the stones unhappy and exposed in the daylight
need a good shower, but it will not rain for a while.
Not that it matters, stones will be churned into grit this year.
They have been in a dreamy limbo for aeons; the dream they
dreamt is a whisper in the wind, walk softly and listen.
TV is full of triviality photogenic politicians who talk loudly
are our leaders of tomorrow.
False promises, forgotten like the grit.
Dream time over, what is left is the stark truth giving light
in the walk of the life destined for us, the human race
as the stones murmur in the wind.
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