Water Poems 2

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Thick rocks, and flat rocks

Thin rocks, and fat rocks

Random this-or-that rocks

I like rocks!

Blocky rocks, and round rocks

Searched for, and found rocks

Even underground rocks

I like rocks!

Black rocks and white rocks

Dark rocks, and light rocks

Even left and right rocks

I like rocks!

Smooth rocks, and rough rocks

Soft rocks, and tough rocks

I never have enough rocks

I like rocks!

Rocks are rough, and black and white, or even kind of gray

That seems to be the thing that many people have to say

That's what people think who haven't seen the rocks I've seen

When I say "rocks are beautiful," do they know what I mean?

The rocks I've seen are colorful, in rainbow hues and tones

Smoothed by sand and waves, becoming soft and rounded stones

They're not the kind of rocks you find by digging in the ground

Instead, on beaches, strewn in wild swaths, is where they're found

I like to walk there on the beach, looking as I go

I spot the most unusual, while walking to and fro

Colors, patterns, textures, size, I factor all of these

Assembling a palette in my own way,  as I please

Black and white, purple, yellow, red, and even green

Some dark, some bright, some middling, with all the shades between

And somewhere, I'll bet someone's even found a stone that's blue

Lying on a beach, though it's so rare, I don't know who...

Every time I see these rainbow rocks, I feel a lift

A feeling that I've found a most amazing nature gift

And when life seems to be caught in a place that's rather gray

That rocky palette brings back cheerful colors to my day!

A thoughtful dreamer passing by

Looked down as something caught his eye

And saw along the river's edge,

Trapped against a sandy ledge

A weathered root, and hemlock bark.

He dreamed of stormy seas and dark

Clouds in the sky, an old ship blown

Far off and lost, out on its own

The dreamer took them, nature's gift

He saw in them a barque, adrift

Carried them back to his home

To sculpt a scene, and write a poem

The sculpture sat, upon a shelf

Nature freed from earthly self

Resting there, by old books framed

To dream of ocean waves, untamed

A magic, dreamlike wooden world

Where bark-ship sailed and root-wave swirled

Caught forever in that pose

A vision that the dreamer chose

A wandering ship, adrift at sea

It's charter lost, no memory

Where it came from, who could know?

But headed where the wild winds blow

It rode upon a giant wave

Stoic, strong, determined, brave

Balanced on a rolling swell

While danger grew as darkness fell

A barque adrift, tossed to and fro

Into the night, yet even so

It foundered not, amidst the gale

In spite of deluged, wind-torn sail

A barque adrift, tossed here and there

'Neath starless sky, it knew not where

And when the faint sun finally rose

Continued on, through endless flows

A barque adrift, tossed far and wide

Carried by the surging tide

Up and down the watery hills

Through splashing, crashing foamy spills

Waters close to Banff, strangely blue, and icy cold

From the melting glaciers, only several hours old

Caribbean in color, but polar at the heart

From the world of coral beaches, far apart

Turquoise blue, with tinge of green, a darting damselfly

Darker than delphinium, and darker than the sky

Lighter than blueberries, or a gentle summer sea

Transparent as a crystal, or a jellyfish might be

Practically devoid of life, neither stain nor dye

Imparts the shade of blue that is so stunning to the eye

I've heard that tiny particles of rock impart the hue

By scattering the sunlight, as the skies, above us, do

In the end, the truth is that the water must be seen

In person, to believe that it could be so bluish-green

Take a drive, and see the Rockies, hear the glacier's call

There you'll find the blue in lake, and stream, and waterfall

On a drive, the rain fell; damp and cold and gray

But clean and pure, and heaven-sent, to wash this old world clean

And as I listened to the countless raindrops hard at play

I chose the latter viewpoint as I looked out on that scene