Pocket Buddy

Orphaned Pebble.
Atop so many ebbs and tides
Have I ridden.
Beneath the roil and tumble
Have I survived.

Now at last,
A fling of wave and wind
Rests me among found safety,
A pebble blanket,
High upon the shores,
At the foot of your Big Sur magnificence.

How very long ago it seems
Your mountain spire,
A shudder,
A quaking shift,
My security split open,
The severed shards ,
The razor chips
Cascaded into the sea.

We were all lost,
Flung from your fortressed castle,
Destined to drift and tumble
In watered darkness.

But you…

After your fathoms-deep eruption,
Did heal.
Ocean did soothe.
Sunlight did transform
Devastation into vegetation.
Your shoreline survived.
Your knife-edged spirit ,
In spite of severed shoulders and face,
Became a frozen echo of resilience.

Your ancient imagination made beautiful its scarring.
Its many cave-like eyes held firm the watch.
Your beard of tangled vines continued its reach far below
Across a rotund belly of scree and sand.

How peaceful this inlet shore …

Where briny caresses have protected
And made available your pebbled orphans who returned.

So…

Here we are
Waiting patiently the next adventurous child looking to select,
Gather,
Sort,
And cherish one of your surviving kin.

As the sun dries my polished continuance,
I wonder if the journey will find new transport to windowpane,
Cigar box,
Perhaps an aquarium
Placed among other friends of the deep.

Though…

I’m hoping to become a pocket buddy.

That’s the best.

Don’t you think?

To be a warm companion
To a boy like the one hovering over me now.

He’s leaning down…