Poetry-Flashback Friday: A History of Pebbles

As I continue to sift through my old files from my undergraduate studies, I’m confronted with all these memories of times and places and moods and smells and scenes.

Sensory memories.

Every time I look at an old file folder, I remember where I was and what was going on in my life when I was writing.

I always had an affinity for this particular poem, even though, as I’ve stated before, I’m no poet. But there is just something about it that I can’t quite verbalize.

.

“A History of Pebbles”

.

Clouds roll across blue skies

staining it a charcoal gray.

Water begs me to wait,

But “strong winds come from the north,” he says.

.

Eager to please,

willing to teach.

.

“Watch” he says, patiently.

The boat wades, drifting closer to the dock

Slackened rope between pointer and thumb

delicately wrap around the post

.

Twist around, under and over the top

Pull tight.

.

He hands over the rope

the boat violently sways.

Water below rises and falls,

But I remain wrapped around the post

.

Twist around, under and over the top

Pull tight?

“Twist around, under and over the top and

Pull tight.”

.

Ripples dance

over rocks and twigs and

a history of pebbles.

.

Aggressive skies stretch

over mountains, water, docks, our dock.

Back, forth, and back again, tightening slack.

Hands firm on the post, eager to

.

Twist around, under and over the top

Pull tight

Never tight enough.

.

Clouds bend in a black whirlpool,

luring dark waters.

Summer sunsets fade

Northern winds always return.

Pebbles Under Water

What do you think of the poem? Leave your thoughts in the comments below!

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