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Creek Stones
by
Glenda Barrett


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Warm oil drips
from her fingers onto
my tight, tender muscles
as she massages my body.

It takes me back to a time,
when my children were infants,
and I rubbed them with baby oil,
except her touch is firmer.
 
As the therapist strokes my arm,
she hands me a warm stone
before sliding it up and down
my arms in a slow motion.
 
She talks about Indians,
how they once took stones
from creeks and heated them
to warm their bodies at night.
 
I think of mountain streams
wildflowers and fresh cool air
as the warmth of the stones lull 
me into a world of perfect peace.

From When the Sap Rises (Finishing Line Press, 2008)
This poem also appear in Red River Review.
Used here with the author's permission. 

 


Glenda Barrett, a native of Hiawassee, Georgia, is an artist, poet and writer. Her writing has appeared in Woman’s World, Chicken Soup for the Soul, Farm & Ranch Living, Rural Heritage, Kaleidoscope, Journal of Kentucky Studies, Smoky Mountain Living, Georgia Magazine, and many other publications.


New comments are closed for now.
cork:
warmth lulls
Posted 02/16/2015 09:42 PM


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