Round stones

This afternoon I step delicately, avoiding the cairns peppered precariously down the undulating edge. I fondle the many colors of smooth granite, noting the short distance between green and pink. 

Almost grey, 
the grey of the sky, 
the grey of the sea.  

Only waves drive the stones to dance. We surf the tilt, balancing round rocks, watching the water crash against the shore.  

In our wild watching,
there is no horizon, 
only round stones, 
flat sky, and unsteady sea.