“If it weren’t…rock…river would have no song.”
                                                                    Carl Perkins 
 
 
Pebbles smoothed by time
live, moving on down. Clatter
as songs in the creeks.
Never friendless, always home
to their own beating rhythm.
 
Teaching how to be 
reduced by gentle friction 
every time their touched.
Even the stones have a sound,
sueded by that blue rolling.