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Dipping my hand into a glacial creek,
I drink until fingers become numb.
Among gravel, I find a flat round stone
which fits the circle my index finger makes
touching thumb.
A smooth unspendable coin
is the currency I need
to remember this day . . .
All stones help streams sing their songs,
and I carry one note in my pocket.
This poem first appeared in The Kerf.
Used here with the author's permission.
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Mark Thalman has been widely published for five decades and is the author of three poetry collections: Stronger Than the Current, The Peasant Dance, and Catching the Limit. Retired after teaching English in public schools for 35 years, he is also an artist who enjoys painting wildlife and seascapes with acrylics. Mark lives in Forest Grove, Oregon; learn more about him at www.markthalman.com.
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LindaCrosfield:
Oh, the stones I, too, have collected! But I've never written about one quite like this! Lovely poem.
Posted 07/28/2018 12:23 AM
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Lori Levy:
I also loved the line Jo mentioned, the final line in the poem.
Posted 07/26/2018 07:47 PM
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Jo:
A beautiful poem.
" All streams help stones sing their songs and I carry one note in my pocket."
A memorable line.
Posted 07/26/2018 06:20 PM
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Michael:
Love "All stones help streams sing their songs"--elegant poem Mark.
Posted 07/26/2018 11:35 AM
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wordartdjc:
This poem could inspire one to seek a stream and do the same as Mark has here. Short and to the point, lovely.
Posted 07/26/2018 08:37 AM
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Charly:
Oh, I love this poem. I collect stones, every once in a while they speak to me. Beautiful poem!
Posted 07/26/2018 08:22 AM
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Larry Schug:
I love hiking, streams, stones, music and poetry. Perfect!
Posted 07/26/2018 07:19 AM
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rhonasheridan:
Good to hear I am not alone in collecting stones. They feel wonderful and collect such memories. Your little poem put it beautifully
Posted 07/26/2018 05:32 AM
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