The Breath of an Ocean Stone

We found most of these stones at Pretty Marsh Beach—a rocky, narrow strip of large and small rocks. Beyond the water's edge and ten thousand miles away lay Australia or so I heard the sailor say.

On a rather foggy day we walked this beach looking for small treasures to take home. You never know about the colours of stones. When wet— hues deepen. When dry the strong opaque bands of colour may fade.

I packed my pockets until the last stone tumbled out .

A flat rock became a sorting table. What to take and what to leave?


Hold a stone in the palm of your hand—
let your fingers trace its contours,
smooth spots
rough texture
Close your eyes and listen—
Do you hear the breath of an ocean?
With the tip of your tongue
taste the salt

You'll know


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