Little Traverse Bay
For a six sided gemstone I search,
plunder stillness like a tourist -
face flush with the rising sun,
splashing, humming, exploring.
If only I'd keep the me she sees,
I wouldn't need a weathered memento
uprooted from protective embrace -
Instead store promise internally,
take it out, polish it,
appreciate the imperfect preciousness
of me.
by Margaret Bednar, revised (again) August 7, 2014
I've fiddled with this poem several times … just needed to "record" the newest version.
Petoskey Stones are the "mementos" I am referencing.
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