Making Waves

I hurl my frantic days
like handfuls of gravel
on wind-driven waves.
Splashing and spitting,
they startle jittery, flint-scaled fish,
provoke muddy clouds,
sink to fitful sleep
beneath choppy water.

Just once,
I’d like to rise unrushed,
choose a smooth stone,
skip it with precision
across a patient lake.

I’d watch each distinct ring
ripple out, reverberate,
and return.









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