The stones I spent an hour with
an hour by the river.
Untamed water, a match to my soul’s color.
The stones I returned to the current,
back where they belonged.
In the name of the otter,
let me make a wish to the river spirit.

When to be a river
when to be a pond
I wonder if you know
when to go beyond.

When to be a puddle
when to be a creek
I wonder if you know
all the shapes I seek.

How to surrender
how to bend
I know that you remember
what’s written in the sand.