Stacking Rocks

Someone is stacking

                 stones
                   on
                 stones
in this field of stones,

possibly simply to perplex,
or maybe they are minor art,
expressing balance
and implying impermanence.

The dog does not know them,
and I am careful only to
not let his leash upend them.
Soon enough the wind or water will displace,
return them to their scattered homes
in the background uniformity of uniquely rounded rocks.
The significance of these stones is small,
whether spread apart or stacked. In fact,
the only thing that matters is whose hand
has placed them where. A person tells us
"I am here," but the world says only
"Here, I am."

October 31 2011