I
Sun glitters on the ferry’s wake.
Its wash tumbles another cairn,
the clack of the stones
scatters amongst his laughter.
II
“I gave my father a stone,
to hold him here,
to remind him.”
I heard, yet I neglected to do the same.
III
Intricately wound and ornamented shells
shatter among rough glass and smooth stones.
Littoral becomes pocket kipple,
soon-forgotten, scattered and lost.
IV
The sharp edge planes the surface,
raising a glittering curtain, falling
as the stone skips onward.
Collected for the dVerse MTB prompt “picking up some pieces” – gathered partly from an old poem, with some new shards to form a fragment poem.
anotherKate 