Stones

I’ve come to the conclusion
that I must leave this place
sometime, this granite perch.
And there are some things
you must know:

A path is still a path, remains —
though some stones get kicked
aside. And a lake is still
a lake, even though stones
hastily thrown, cannot
seem to break it.

I wonder too, if those I carry,
loose in my pockets, are
somehow misplaced or
displaced, like those
that smoothed a trail, or
those that challenged water.

I suppose the stones,
down there, in the shrinking
pool, newly dry, may somehow
hold the answer. And maybe too,
the toads that nest there.

Image: Sven Fischer on Unsplash