• On the way to the path, I saw
    Small boulders from the green river
    Wetted and clean, free from their stains.
    And if I tilted my head left
    They were bright as dead beer bottles,
    Sunlike in promise as they shone
    And I wondered that if I were
    To pick one up and gaze through it
    Would I see the stone-clear future,
    Smooth with it’s fog like the pebble
    Showing just how little I know
    Of the future that I pockmark,
    Decorate with my maybes and
    What ifs that may never come true
    And I am sad when I pick up
    That earth spyglass and find it dark
    Keeping me from unsight and as
    I keep walking, I mull over
    My little stone scope I have lost
    And think to myself that if I
    Were to be cleaned and eroded,
    That maybe I could see into
    Myself and tell my own fortune.