THIS LITTLE STONE by Daniel Pitner

This Little Stone It wades in the river. The Water rushing across its surface Making it smooth, and refined.

One day, scooped up from its bed, It's tossed against the waves; Bouncing against the current- No control and blind.

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A storm is brewing, And the heavens begin to circle. Darkness falls And rain pours down.

Lightening crashes Against the water. And into the water this little stone sinks To the river's lowest ground.

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This little stone, So little and frail, To no avail it waits In the deep dark water.

So deep that No light can reach it. It sits in the abyss Where it's colder than hotter.

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On the surface it's chaos, But in the deep it's still. The Blackness is empty, Yet peaceful and tranquil.

Fathoms below where the sky touches the water, This  little stone abides. Safe from the tides and winds above. Here time seems unreal.

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But once upon a time, Maybe eons later, A lone fish scavenges for  food; Eating in mass.

It scoops up algae, Along with dirt and gravel. This little stone trades dark water for the belly of a bass.

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The fish carries the stone Higher and higher. Against some force The fish tried and fought.

But this little stone's time in the water Was coming to a close. The fish arose out from the water. By a fisherman it was caught.

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He takes his catch home, This fisherman, Thinking about how he Might prepare his dinner.

Unaware of This little stone's troubles, Or that it was even In his tenure.

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And so he filleted his catch With experienced  skill. Still, this fisherman noticed Something is odd.

What's this? A rock? A little stone Buried in fish and sod.

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He pulled out the rock, This fisherman did; cleaning off all the muck. The slime, the grime, the filth and dirt. He washed this little stone over an old bucket.

And as he scrubbed and polished His eyes could not believe the sight. This wasn't some ordinary stone, But a bright gold nugget.

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What could he buy, this fisherman wondered. He was richer than the day before; Pondering all the many things, All the  possibilities he had in store.

So he put this little stone In his shirt pocket, Where it was dark like the water; Unsure what is would be used for.

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So this fisherman went back to the river to catch the new day's meal. This little stone sat quiet in his pocket As he caught many more fish.

Day after day in the dark, This little stone traveled with this fisherman, Wondering what would become of it. With this little stone this fisherman could buy a big delicious dish.

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As time passed on this fisherman grew old, But never did he spend the gold. Within his pocket it rested, Between his heartbeat and stitches sewn.

Safe in the dark of soft linen, Where it would never again be alone. It was much too precious to this fisherman to sell, So he kept it all his days, this little stone.

© 2010 Daniel Pitner. All Rights Reserved.