Lying in a green field
Makes too much noise
When it wears
The white gauze
Of a full moon
When it bears
The slick ice
The deep snow
Each January First
When the chisel
Becomes more
Than the scar
Of an alphabet
Bearing the letters of someone’s name
A stone makes a long road
Builds the tall sturdy tower
The deep & precious well
As a guide to the future
A stone always suggests
My skull on a pillow inside a coffin
