Heard not Seen

It was a day when I worked

With my shirt off

Bent to the task

Concentrating on single stones

The depth, set, fit to the path

Brushing the grey, gritty soil

To fill in the gaps

Ancient fragments glinted

As I weighed up each stone in my palm

Myriad crystal particles

Formed over eons

Compacted, knocked, quarried, shaped

Travelled from where only heaven knows

To a simple pavé here

While the lizard watches

From a split in the wall

Ready to twist away

Hide somewhere dry within

Sounding a crisp trail

As it flicks through the dead ivy

The moment I straighten my back

.

CLP 05/12/2019

Published by

Christopher Perry

Liberté, Equalité, Humanité