Above the lake
I sit to watch the wind play with the water.
My chair a rock,
A great gray giant rock
A rock that seems to be poised there waiting
Waiting, waiting, waiting…
Flat on top, smooth, heavy
Just a shore rock waiting for a giant child
With his giant father,
To come along on a summer afternoon
To chose it — this rock
To smooth it on his giant shirttail
Feel it in his giant hand and
Whip it through giant fingers
Out across the lake’s surface,
Count it with a grand giant thundering voice
As it tucks the water and skips
One, two, three, four, five,
Five giant skips!
I should move!