A Polished Pebble

by John Herlihy

From the heart of the earth flows liquid pure,

That down through the ages will forever endure.

Fluids dancing forth in rhythms graceful and sage,

Flowing thru hills and valleys to withstand the age.

Singing softly sweet lullabies as if to a sleeping child,

Grumbling over wayward boulders across the wild.

Shimmering in the paddy fields as molten silver,

Rushing through the highlands as an impatient river.

The color of water takes on a multitude of hues,

The cobalt black of night or a sky of iridescent blues.

The waters of the earth serve as mirrored reflection,

The river capturing the weeping willows in dejection.

A lattice work of branches gaze into the water to preen,

Sparks of sunlight as diamonds across the waters gleam.

What of great waterways of earth without a dawn mist,

Hovering over the surface of the depths as if blessed.

We come now to the heart of the story a lonely pebble,

Left behind after waters receded under stars that tremble.

The heart of the story lies in the heart of the stone,

Abandoned on the river's shore as a bleached bone.

Cut away crumbling from the edges of a mountain slope,

Borne thru rushing waters as a couple ready to elope.

The journey down the mountain’s back fraught with hazard,

Tossed about hither and thither as a snowflake in a blizzard.

Eventually, the chunk of rock, reduced in size, comes to rest,

Laying upon the river's shore as though nestled within a nest.

The burnished pebble after its rough journey polished smooth,

Nothing further left to do and with nothing more to prove.

One last step before this perilous journey comes to an end,

To be admired as a treasure and into a child’s pocket to land.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Thursday 30 October 2025