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Poem is by Lois Barton, Skipping Stones
On my walk this morning
I spotted a perfect skipping stone
of little use to me
on a gravel driveway up a wooded hillside.
My thoughts turned back to youthful
contests by the lake,
where we vied with each other for the most skips.
Great care went into choosing just the right flat stone.
A cheer of achievement often followed seven leaps
before gravity drew the stone to the bottom of the lake.
Did my brother with the powerful throwing arm
once count nine?
Pity the poor child who reaches maturity
without ever discovering that a rock,
properly propelled, will dance lightly
across the surface of smooth water.
Date: Friday, August 11, 2006 GMT Views: 383
Favorited:3