Small Boy Throwing Stones

Small boy throwing stones
across the lake,
selects them with care;
his discard heap grows
like a climber’s cairn
to signal others
to seek elsewhere,
but smooth, flat and rounded shapes
find their way to his hand.
He throws underarm,
his arm parallel
with the lake’s surface.
At the end of the motion
his hand and fingers flick
and the stone skips
once, twice, three times.
Small shrugs of disgust
and he hurls the next away,
many little explosions
show its progress,
six beats he counts..
Satisfied now, and
unlikely to better,
he mooches away
hands in pockets.
I still select stones with care.

I like this. The conversational tone makes the poem flow well. A very enjoyable read.

Les

There's still that small boy or girl hidden away in all of us. I still skip rocks when I have the chance.

JP