set in stone

everywhere i go i pick up rocks
fist sized and pocket pretty

glitter bombed and sand scoured
mud coated and water polished

if you come to my house
you’ll find one in every corner

scattered on shelves
ringing the chimney

posing as tchocke and
serving as doorstop

lift the one at your feet and
you’ll feel the mountains

touch the three to your right
and you’ll wear the forest

graze the one on that shelf
and hear whispers of german

all the best ones are hidden
in places i’ve forgotten

the chunk of white granite
i found when i walked out

a dog-bone shaped fossil
holding place for a friend

the almost heart i dug up
from my always garden

hard bits of ancient life
compressed into monument

words and footprint
howls and monsoon

captured in cages
beyond the season

of deciduous silence
and decay

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A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo.
Also joining in with PAD (poem a day) over at Writer’s Digest.

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