Stone Soul

Gray rocks are gathered, sleeping, underneath the churchyard tree
When they wake and walk away, will I be there to see?

For I know rocks can see and hear
     but their thinking is so slow
That they are nothing you should fear
     (until they rise to go)
And what can wake a sleeping rock
     is a secret I can't tell
But when that thing restarts their clocks
     the world will hear their knell.

Slowly will they then rise up
     and slower still move on
And you can trace in furrowed earth
     the path where they have gone.
And when the rocks can move again
     the trees will all rejoice
For rocks have always talked to them
     (in deep and gravelly voice!)

See them stretch and reform limbs
     with creaking, groaning sounds
See the hollows that they leave
     where e'er they touch the ground.

Gray rocks are gathered, waiting, do not disturb their sleep
For if too soon you waken them, then ALL the trees will weep.

c. 5/27/88, B. Riley