SKY PEBBLES

Tight knit, these pebbles

Although not knitted at all

If our brains were in place.

Magically magical

But truly, touchingly magical

Though impossible to touch.

As if some god had woven them

Having shouted at stray clouds

To form up and bunch in tight.

Just letting us know

Down here but looking up

That some gods value beauty.

Whether knit one, pearl one

Is this god’s speciality

Is unknown to me.

However tightly knitted they seem

We know each pebble

Has its own resolve in place.

The resolve to be fluidly individual

Unmindful of watchers

Careless of admiration.

And, of a sudden

As I looked

Change and separation all around.

Pebbles unformed themselves

Indifferent to me, or the god

And how we thought of them.

No longer pebbles

Neither galleons nor dragons

Whales, pigs nor eagles.

But spectacle and grandeur

Clouds shaping, reshaping

Each day of our lives.

Well, fancy that!