in the third grade class there was a "discovery table"

Filled with things to touch, weigh, measure and explore

She stood quietly there, her fingers gingerly stroking

The rough outside of a geode, or “Thunder rock”

As she turned the rock, her eyes brightened in wonder

At the crystalline forms that sparkled

The shades fading from brilliant purple to crystal clear

Spellbound and silent, her hands explored its beauty

Until , at last, and a bit reluctantly, she set it back in its place

“You know”, she said looking up into her teacher’s eyes

“That rock is like some people, rough on the outside, but beautiful within”

As her words drifted into oblivion, that room, for several seconds,

Was silent