6

Words are the pebbles

I gather on my path.

My mouth can’t deal with them.

The sandy bits cause mumbling,

And Those too smooth

Make me choke.

Hide them in my shoe

And I’m limping all day.

In my pocket, one

Or two sweeten the moment,

But even a handful

Can weigh me down.

Words are the pebbles

I gather to cast away–

And oh, the unexpected arc of flight,,

The glint and glimmer each stone gives

In homage to the moon–

And I can’t help whooping with joy!