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.