Outdoor scribbles

The severity of the wind blows like a ripple swims in a pond,
Determined solely by the rock’s velocity,
Trajectory, angle, mass, shape;
Upon entering water, produces miniature waves;
To stretch out, to become more
Larger, titanic;
And fading;
It makes them bob and shake their heads,
Green lambs with insects nipping at their
Ears, rousing them from sleep;
Mimicking what they imagine, I imagine, to
Be the sound of the ocean,
Rising and falling with its
ebb and flow.
They shake and tremble and act as one.
Eventually all halts.
The igneous sinks into a sandy capsule,
Fluttering carelessly downward;
They all stand quietly, humming their songs,
Slinking into silence
Until the next stone is cast.


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