Skipping Stones IV
I tried to teach my son how to skip stones
Across the creek, across the pond.
I tried to find the perfect shape to fit his hand,
One just the right size to wrap his fingers
around the edge so it spins just right
And leaves footprints on the water,
Then losing momentum, sinks down to rest.
I held his hand in mine,
The shape of fingers over fingers,
Of cold stone and pink skin,
Of water flashing sunlight
As the breeze parts the leaves above.
Small hands and arms and feet and legs
Spent time splashing and throwing rocks
As big as he could carry
Sending tiny fish and crawdads
Sailing away from us.
His voice joined the song birds,
His own melody
mommy – mommy –
Harmonizing with the robbins’ song in B minor
The cardinals’ chirps, red flashes above us.
All of it suddenly fading to the back of my mind
As the stone kerplunks on last time.