Poetry

A Pebble

I am but a Pebble in a sea of green. I sink, I float, I swim, I dive. The sea fleas and flies the pebble sits and waits. Time is irrelevant to the pebble who sits and waits for the competency of the sea. There are other pebbles but one sea of green. Many say there is much fish in the sea, but the Pebble knows that fish are neither here nor there. All are peripheral to the pebble for he knows how charmed, how favored he is by the sea. He is no longer a pebble but a pearl in her majestic white capes. -Peter Moum