The rolling stone

i found a
wrinkled battered stone
that had rolled and rolled
and bounced and slid
all the way
to the bottom of the hill,
it cut a mighty swath
of crumpled dirt
as it crashed its way along,
now that trail is gone,
filled with leaves and mold,
only the stone remains,
partly covered by lichen growth
at the edge of Blaylock Creek,
licked by the rivers
unforgiving tongue,
and finally
gathering its moss.


Albert Pike Park Arkansas
1991