skipping stones across the pond

and we try to get as many jumps as we can

2

3

5

8

10

at a certain point it looks as if the stone is just skidding across the water

light at an angle

low and a permeating orangy blue hangs in the air

we make ripples

and i can’t help but wonder how many people it will touch

can’t help but reflect 

seeing reflections on the waters

as the waves go by and they spalsh our feet with sea foam

finding the perfect rock is an art 

searching for the right one

is a joy in it of itself

when suddenly the smooth well weighted stone the sits in your hand 

ready to spin across waters and then disappear from view