An innocent toss turns to intentional heft.
Land it just so.
Not in, but on.
The smooth, flattened stones go further —
touching, touching, touching…gone.
Five! I got five!
I can do better,
Hand me another.
Where? Where are the better stones?
Which? Which are the best stones?
Weight. Trajectory. Angle.
Calculations are for the cautious.
I am armed.
My heart pounds,
My head whirs,
My breath grows short.
Loving God, help me to throw pebbles of love into the still waters of the world.
Posted on January 14, 2014, in Body, In Action and tagged children, God, Leisure, love, poetry, skipping stones, still waters. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.
Great imagery and analogy.