skipping stones

some days

it comes easily —

tension-free,

my hand

guides

the

way,

eyes trained

across the water —

i’m a machine wired so

intricately, posed to

withstand any

factors

threatening

me in the distance —

focused on what matters:

the gleam of the ripples;

the sun’s warmth

stretching

down

my

shoulders,

beaming, i bask

in a day paced

for me, it

seems —

flat —

steady —

i rock softly

from foot to foot,

practicing, feeling the

fire swelling inside of me —

rising to meet the surrounding

scene; i feel in bloom, calmly matching

the puddles at feet; blending the colors i

sometimes struggle to mash into what

is being asked of me; i flick my

wrists in tune to the sway

of the water lapping,

licking me ever

so softly —

time ticks by

without my knowledge,

tocking through thoughts in

a way that doesn’t overwhelm

me — a gift, honestly, i

sometimes take

for granted —

woven —

serene —

i stack stones

before leaving so i

can get started, at least —

tomorrow may not

be free-flowing.

skipping stones

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