Handful of Stones

          Handful of Stones

At the river, in the heat of a Sunday afternoon, they spoke to him. 

The stones cried out beneath the blanket of clear running water.

A silent chorus, they sang out.

An ancient tale of Apollo, at the dawn of the first solar eclipse.

He gazed at the stones and remembered

time before he could speak,

Longing to hold this memory.

He opened his mouth and swallowed each stone...

One by one.