Stone Stepping

crossing the creek
      at age twenty five,
I step unsteadily
      from stone to stone,
arms outstretched like
      Christ walking on water
only minus the faith,
      measuring first before
shifting my weight,
      trying to feel
the shape of the rock
      through my thick-soled boots.
A slip and my arms
      flail for balance, and I
see my hands at age seven
      grasping the rock, feel
my fingers curling into
      wet moss, my bare toes
pressed to cold stone.
      I remember how I scrambled
easily across the creek,
      body bent close
to the rocks, red hair
      trailing in the water,
with no fear of falling.

 

-- Candace L. Stone

Originally published by L D Books, used with permission.

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