The Remembrance of Pebbles
I reach the beach under
A grey-sky welcome,
A stiffening breeze whipping
Bottle-green-broken wave tops
Hurrying to shore, as the pebbles
Watch me expectantly.
Do they remember?
I tread lightly, accompanied
By click, clack, crack, crunch.
Pausing to pick up flint,
Granite, quartz and basalt.
There is warmth and familiarity and
Presence in their solidity.
Do they remember?
I smell our summer memories.
Salt borne and spray washed,
Stone-smooth against my cheek.
I question each one;
'Were you there? Did you see us smile?
Then cast pebble after pebble into the sea.
Do they remember?
I hear the shingle sounds,
Resonating with your
Beach-laughs as waves of happiness
Again usher in hope after hope,
Swashing and tumbling
With such joyous clatter.
Do they remember?
I watch the waves
Spent of energy.
And the sadness returns with
Every mournful backwash.
And the pebbles whisper
Yes, they remember and
How very, very sorry they are.
