The Circle of Scattered Pieces

Stone Man

White pebbles are rolling
in the brook by my plinth.
A sparrow is muttering
in the orchard above me
as daybreak reddens
the snows on the peaks.
I've been here since the masons
quarried my granite
and the sculptor shaped
my man's semblance
and fixed me here
on this plinth by the brook.
I weary of standing.
Come, frost fingers,
and pry at my cracks.
Sand, on the wind,
wear at my stone.
I would slough this shape,
I would crumble and roll
to the stream that laps
at the base of my plinth.
I want to travel
with the river pebbles.

Next Poem:  "Spring Vistas"
List of Poem Circles
Updated last on:  2001/05/24