Skipping Stones

Boy, no more than 5, head bowed

to the sound of waves beating against sand behind him,

unaffected, focused as only a 5 year old can on an individual

grain of sand.

Looking for the perfect rock,

smooth and flat on both sides, to skim the water’s skin,

tame the tide, the miracle of Jesus, skipping on water, till

losing focus and sinking into the drink.

A baby’s hand picks up a stone, slightly flawed on one side,

soft as his own cheek on the other, and readies to throw.

Today the water proves too powerful

and the stone slices straight through meaty waves

to rest like Lazarus at the ocean’s unseen scripture.

Until the tide brings it back to rest on the shore,

to wait for the next set of hands

to set it free.


2 thoughts on “Skipping Stones

  1. bellesogni

    For everything there is a season and the seasons keep coming.
    That was very evocative of Ecclesiastes 3:5, The Byrds “Turn, Turn, Turn”, and one of the places I always love – beaches, but mostly of my brothers when they were young.
    I send a smile your way Peter in gratitude.


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