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Skipping Stones
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Do you remember keeping your eyes open
For flat, oval rocks to pocket on walks to the pond?
Saving the best for last, you’d lean
To one side and flick your wrist
flinging the stones just off the water.
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It isn’t easy to defy gravity
And make a stone skip like a tern
And skim weightless
Soaring without wings
Touching down like a plane
While you count until it sinks
And heads to rest anonymous
On the bottom.
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Maybe that’s what we’re after
As we try to stay afloat,
Skimming on the surface,
defying the odds
For the fleeting feeling of flight.
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North of Oxford 