A good skipping stone is flat and smooth
It fits well between index and thumb.
Balanced, it follows the will of the throw
Hits the water once with nary a ripple,
Then moves gracefully through the air.
It dances on water in measured arcs,
Tension flattens as the will completes its journey.
The stone glides to stillness,
Gently sways underwater
Then comes to rest
In unfathomable depths
Where it belongs,
In the sand.
The wrong stone or an unmeasured throw,
In a missing conjunction of thought and care,
Becomes a projectile,
An offensive detonation,
A lapidating explosion,
An unexpected consternation.
In concentric circles
It sinks in the shallows.
A stone vituperation,
Raw edges barely hidden
Danger to skin and bone,
Easily dredged and thrown
By a storm.
Top photo– stories.inspiredbyiceland.com
Bottom photo– http://joshfults.com/tag/what-we-do-matters/