[Poem] Summer Stone

Summer Stone

A small ocean on my lap

Purring black slumber’s cat brine

And out the window,

Buoyant whales buzzing drowsy, sweet

From flower to sun’s lingering pink kiss;

These small, spiced lords engorged with warmth,

Confident in their sunrise

And their sting

I am no lord

though I, too, want to drink down this

Disappearing June sky that tickles my heels and

Pulls me to the heavens

Where I dare not live

I peer further and see a wall of rocks standing quiet watch 

Moss blue, gray, brown and green

Humming the fermata of the dying summer day

I envy these rocks 

As they weather the whip of your approaching fog—

Cold, unrelenting, and darkest white—

Hoping that, in time, the sun’s rays, oh the sun’s rays

Will favor their dark depths again

And green buds will tickle their hardened shores

There they sit, steady and unflinching,

content to hold on to the bruised sky’s brief warmth,

And hold