Little Marvels
The house came with river rock
around widely-spaced hostas,
a bonafide playground for
a little kid and me.
At two, my grandson
likes to carry a few rocks in each hand
or put them in & dump them out
of his little red plastic watering can
which is what we were doing
this afternoon
when I found a keeper:
half-inch crinoid
hollow core
a definite keeper
or
a gift
for his mom
to put on her kitchen windowsill–
a little marvel to see each day.
The hose intrigued the toddler
too much to revel
with me in my find,
but when she came home,
I nearly whooped,
Hey, look what I found in your flowerbed!
She glanced at my palm–
her attention on her son who had
replaced rocks with a stick in each hand–
and said, Yeah.
300 million years old
washed and found
on my windowsill now
Yeah
4 thoughts on "Little Marvels"
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This poem reminds me of how excited I used to be to find fossils in my yard. Thanks for bringing back that marvelous rush of discovery!
Thank you, Katrina!
Yeah
this is humorous
with two pointed
sticks. Great
Thanks, Jim. It was funny and sad, too, because none of us could communicate to the other what was so wonderful the little marvels we each looked at. I think I couldn’t communicate it in the poem either– there aren’t enough minutes in a-poem- a-day for a slow reviser like me.