Tall trees sway dizzily in the wind.
Nearer the ground,
the wildflowers
tremble.

The leftover leaves calculated
the strange geometry of their
precarious position.

Eternal silence describes the
relationship between a
stone and its shadow

Life is a farce in which human beings
come and go like inexplicable
smears on a mirror.

Love can be a prickly thing,
yet still bear beautiful fruit.

I found a cloud caught
on a tree, but knew
no way to set
it free.

More than simply functional, a manhole cover is street art
that is embossed with geometric or more curvaceous
designs and is experienced as a disc-like sculpture
beneath our feet.

Tenants living in the basement apartment
complain that their view is scissored
by the legs of passersby.

Raindrops paint spreading circles in shades of
green and silver on the pond's surface
in a display of natural performance art.

A couple of shivering cottonwood trees
bend in the wind and rattle
their leaves.

Spiders tally their victims each morning
on an ingenious abacus strung with
silk strands and beads of dew.

An elderly couple twisted around in their seats
to glare with mute disapproval upon the
disruptive hilarity of the teenagers
in the back of the theater.

Man's true nature was revealed when he replaced pure air,
clean water, and extensive old grow forests with
strip joints, strip malls, and strip mines.

Plastic cavalry soldiers scout the sweeping plains
of the blanket on the bed until a mountain range
is forced up by bent legs, and the riders are
trapped in a labyrinth of canyons
with no way out. 

Staring up from a crushed skull in a broken and
half devoured corpse, a grounded owl's
sightless eye looks into mine.

Lichen is the colorful spackle on the crumbling stone bench,
the crusty stucco coating branches in a brush pile,
and the vibrant texture on the living tree.

 

Humankind straddles the natural world defiantly,
just like obscene graffiti is boldly written across
the facade of a revered monument.

Murmuring and moving dreamily,
the creek seems almost asleep
in its bed.

No living thing has personal experience with its ways.
Its artfulness lives in death, a blending of loss and
terrible beauty. We know it only as decay.

(photo of the underside of a rotting mushroom)

The restricted nesting area of the Terns
is like the gated 'bedroom community'
of the human beings.

Milkweed seeds have perfect little
gossamer parachutes made
of milkweed silk.

Psychics are deluded individuals with 
the peculiar notion that they can
serve as spiritual correspondents.

Silvery sun brushed blades of grass
and whispers of a breeze
tempt you out into the open
from the darkness of the trees.

Made of solid stone, an epic poem is composed by a
size XL ego; but, there is hope that with exactitude
the wasted words can be dislodged and a
small stone left standing in its place.

My past is present when memory
is scented by the perfume of Spring
lilacs and the smokiness of
burning Autumn leaves.

Something about the sound of a solitary automobile
passing down a deserted rain slick street
in the middle of the night
speaks of desolation.

Curiously sweet meat can come
from creatures whose lives
are lived in brine.

Gaunt reminders of time's passage
are caught in the sere grass
at the edge of the path.

Silent, drifting, insulating, crystalline, white,
wet, and cold are only some of the aspects
of the fast approaching snows.

Soft breezes have disarranged
the long green ribbons
of grass.

Strumming the dulcimer
releases its music
from bondage.

Colorful autumn leaves
are like shards of a shattered
stained glass window that
land at my feet.

No person hears a tree scream,
but as a sentinel post apocalypse,
the evidence of pain is in the tortured
posture that remains.

Three centuries ago most sailors spent their
lives in a wooden world upon the sea,
yet seldom came to appreciate
the lovely landlocked trees.

The way through depression is down a
foggy street where all appears drab
and colorless, and detail
cannot be distinguished.

There is a false sense of security in knowing
window glass holds back the
darker blue of night.

Why not see the frayed rope as a gnarled and fibrous wave
that has crashed on a beachhead
of hemp!

The more small stones I create,
the boulder I get.

A synchronized flock of Plovers circled
over the mudflats, anticipating
the mysterious signal
to land.

I get only enough sleep to
keep me just this side
of insanity.

The sun rose from the sea in silence; but,
the gulls began their day
at the beach by squabbling
over breakfast.

A cagey negotiator of sharp spines,
the Cactus Wren longs to find
his prey already impaled
and ready to be eaten.

Hungry imagination transformed
dry blossoms into crunchy
caramel corn.

Offspring are parenthetical comments.

Dockside, the bare poles of the sailboats
imitate the naked trees
of winter.

Why do you end the conversation
as soon as I spot a flaw
in your argument?

The sky is patched with ragged
clouds that let the blue
leak through.

Like the lengthy shadows of
late afternoon, imagined wrongs
can seem very significant.

Ratiocination is of no use
when discussing love.

Whale song summons a listening attitude,
not one that is insistent or obtrusive.

To interpret a speed limit sign as
indicating the minimum speed allowed
rather than the implied maximum,
is to show little concern for prolonging life.

A flock of sparrows arranged
themselves along the top
of the chain link fence
like little feathered finials.

An unfortunately timed yawn
can bring a romantic moment
to an abrupt end.

This road was not paved
with good intentions, just
dust and shadows.

Every public park hides evidence
of the phantom presence
of the homeless.

In rough seas, each overhanging crest
of a wave wears an even nastier scowl
on its face than its predecessor.

Googie architecture decorates
many of my stranger
dreamscapes.

It is two a.m. and my brain is inflamed.
I thought to extinguish it with the ink from my pen,
but it only fueled the fire.

An ornate frame
may be preferable to that
which it contains.

Modern art exists in everyday life.

(note: photo is of a bolt securing a light pole to its base and was shot from directly overhead. Color is true)

A buoy tethered in a turbulent
ocean of indigo colored waves
breaks the silence.

Magnificent sounds bursting
from the huge pipe organ
cudgel me sensuously.

Sunday was so foggy it was as if
the landscape had been masked out
with liquid frisket.

Rain causes the bumbershoot to blossom.

Many small stones
can be found within a
mountain of words.

I looked out my window this morning
and cried, because the blinds had
sliced the sky to ribbons.

Keep pen and paper by your bedside,because the creative impulse is like sickness;
It can wake you up in the middle of the night
searching for a place to spew your insides.

Impaling an earthworm on a fish-hook
leaves both of us squirming.

Footprints found
where two paths cross were
those of passing strangers.

B-17 Flying Fortresses and B-24 Liberators
had ball turrets that bulged
like a frog's eyes.

Weekdays the shopping mall is less like a
shrine to conspicuous consumption,
and more like an Old West ghost town.

Thanks to Laura Ashley,
I sleep in a flowerbed.

Cold fear follows the significant crack
occurring beneath my feet as I
cross the frozen lake.

Grandma's house smelled of both
freshly baked bread and the
fustiness of old age.

Main Street is only four short blocks
in length, with an enormous expanse
of windswept prairie at either end.

There are those with a predominant
color in their wardrobe; the more Gothic
are preoccupied with black.

Vanity won't exaggerate its
wrinkles by smiling
very much.

Some artists reduce their reality
to color at the expense of the other
constituent elements.

Automobile showrooms are
dumb shows of machines
with no concept of velocity.

Turn over the Tiger Cowrie
to see its toothy grimace.

Black beetle scuttled through the dust
narrowly eluding the ominous waffle tread
of a hiker's boot.

Many a kindergarten student 
succumbs to the urge
to taste the paste.

I am continually amazed by the
ingenious comings and goings of
escalator steps.

On the bluffs above the salt marsh,
even the most sober are intoxicated by the perfume
of sea and sage.

The artistry on the forest floor
can surpass that of the finest
designer tile.

Elegant flight is a struggle
for a little bird with a
big twig.

Life is unimaginable
without music.

Hot and humid summer afternoons
are more pleasantly spent in the cool and
softly illuminated inner sanctum of
a library.

Sometimes it is not possible
to discern the nature
of reality.


Geologic time
makes the snail's pace
seem swift.


Chili on top of a hamburger
is a sloppy proposition.

Ours was a summer morning
drunk on sunlight
the color of
champagne.

The air is filled with cottonwood seeds

drifting down slowly through the sunlight

as softly and silently as snow.

Bedsheets on the clothesline
on a windy day signal like
semaphores.

Memory
is the mind's
reverse gear.


Few first lines
hold more promise than,
"Once upon a time..."


Discordant words
don't flow. 
They snag.

A cactus has
natural fractals.

One wooded acre
can recite a thousand
fascinating stories.


A resting swimmer rises,
and a wet impression
on the rock remains.

The tensile strength of spider silk
makes the hummingbird's nest
more flexible.

Many rainy days
are mended with
patches of sunshine.

A leaf
holds water
for a thirsty bird.





photo by Barbara Boethling

As clever as the clam thinks he was
by hiding beneath the sand,
his position was betrayed
by an air bubble.


Chirping birds
perched on the old rooftop antenna,
and converted an obsolete object
into one of new value.

What does the sky think
when she looks into the mirror of the lake
and sees herself?



A small shadow
has filled in the fox's footprint
in the snow.

Birch bark curls,unfurled,
make splendid sails
for little twig boats.




Bushwhacking for photos
necessitates old holey jeans
and the ratty t-shirt
with a monkey on the front.

Watch as the master baker demonstrates
the marvelous shapes his dough
can take.

elm seeds glisten
when they stick to a
rain slick sidewalk

Small children wearing rubber rain boots
are magnetically attracted
to puddles.

Sunlight laughs
and playfully
slides down the gentle curve
of every blade of grass.

Passion and reproductive potential
are embodied in ripe fruit,
and are expressed by means of
the subtle insinuation
of  a seductive scent.

Tumbled agates
are polished nuggets
of rich, earthy color.

Gun smuggling thugs thrive
on human suffering.

Six gangly, tangly legs
made the bug stumble.

leafless branches
eagerly telegraph
their encrypted communiques
in crisp little clicks and clacks

Sunlight filtering through
a gap in the curtains
burnishes the nutshells
to a rich mahogany.

Succumbing to temptation
is not necessarily
a mistake.

Snow falls
so silently, that
I am momentarily convinced
of my own deafness.

I will define
a cataract;
the naturally occurring analogue
of a frosted pane
of glass.

the textured exterior
of Ethel's refrigerator
resembles a schematic
of the Amazonian river system
 

A poet
is a sculptor
of words

Breath the steam
of jasmine tea
to disperse
angst

Buds are starting to swell

on branches still bare;

yet, at the end of a single twig

a tiny flower has

opened alone.

Fog
smudges
the horizon line.
The darkness
of night
erases it.

today's frustrations
settled to the bottom
of my wine glass
with the dregs

our old stone

birdbath

is hosting

the ablutions of the

local sparrows

splotched

oilcloth

protects

the studio

table from

paint

spills

twelve years
of tangerine seeds
created
an orchard

My large
armchair
has a hidden
lever to
launch
the unsuspecting
visitor

ship
at anchor
rides
the rising
and falling
tides

Welcome to my blog devoted completely to the short written form known as a "small stone."  As you may know, this form is, by definition, a polished moment of paying proper attention to the world around us, i. e. , a precise capturing of a moment where you and your senses are fully engaged. Though there are no strict rules, it is important to remember the process by which you arrive at the polished stone is as important as the finished product. Try it yourself by writing one a day to start. You will soon begin to discover there is a marvelous richness and depth to your world you never noticed before! Let's begin.


some faces,
   soft leather



window screens
consist of
empty space

beneath a leaf

held to the light

tiny tributary streams

feed the river

in the stem

photo by Barbara Boethling