.
take small stones.
imagining their history
hold them
let the sediment fall.
waiting until there’s
no more mud
take what you see
remember how they split
in violent earthy fits
in tempers of steam
before the coming of ears.
see them fall
as you fell from your father
like chips
into the soft cup of your mother’s hand
and from there into your own.
hold to their shapes.
feel the suck of your lungs,
their warm caves filling
with northern January breath
……………………………
Jim Culleny; 1975
Christian Science Monitor, 1977
…………………………….
Blink 