Category Archives: River of Stones

Deep in the wide Black Mountains, nothing but green gorse and silence surrounds me. From somewhere, out of sight, a sheep coughs.

My hands grasp the wheel, my car grips the road; rushing forward, holding on.

I draw back thick, woven cream onto pale grey silk and diamond drops; the fabric of the morning.

I tossed a handful of stones in the river and the ripples rolled out, and returned with words from around the world. Thank you.

A shaft of light finds a gap in the heavy curtains, throwing a silver sword on the wall at the foot of my bed.

Smoothly honed Istrian stone whispers of the waters from which it sprang, urging my eyes to linger and my fingers to stray.

The damselfly dances round my memory, a myriad of summers, and you. But the damselfly, the summers, and you, are gone.