Trekked through the bracket as a little girl….. lead off the old road by a seeking heart….. laughter some kilometers away caught… snared and tangled in the pine…. bounced off the water and back towards the sky…….
Heard my father call for me and I dropped my stick…. ran and hid…… hid for a game….. and while crouching i found a stone….. found a geode at my feet….. craggy cut from some millionth ago…. tiny granules seeded in eternity at it’s back…. red sparkle looked like mold….. as i folded the thing over and over in my hand……. like a tiny universe’s tiny meteor had hit my craggy rock some millionth ago……. like some tiny microscopic growth under a scope….. held it against my knee and carried it back towards my father’s voice…….
Showed him what i’d found…. held it up to his face….. plucked it from me with a smirk……turned it over and over in his calloused gentle hand….. had to stand his own walking stick against the land….. Winked at me and said in a voice… sing songy like his irish brow….. “good find my darling dear”……. And down we strode to the dock below…….
And now, bracken and vine and forests of crickets and lizards, a boulder in a tiny universe…. my geode now sits nestled in my top drawer…… lies sleepy and safe amidst lace and soft fabric….. the delicate things and paper i put close to my heart….. geode’s sparkle in my eye like the sun on the water that afternoon when i was seven.
Sonic Drops 