Ode To The Boulder

In between two neighboring houses

rests a single small boulder.

It slumbers under the towering tree’s shade

and has rested there for who knows how long. 

It was there at the beginning,

it was there at the moving,

and here it still stays. 

Its clearly seen downpours and blizzards much worse,

so the pouring rain currently in progression

was nothing.

It was as motionless as it was surreal,

like there could be something grand

underneath that hard, rough skin. 

If anything else, it was probably there

since the dawn of time itself. 

Or maybe it was just the fossilized,

fleshless tow of a troll or giant. 

I really don't know, to be honest. 

It was a giant in its own right. 

There it sleeps by the edge

of that strip of nature. 

It shows no resentment to the children

who used to climb on its side

with rubber-flatted sneakers. 

That’s where I let my dreams wander.

Not anymore.

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I wrote this poem just the other day.  This picture was literally taken right next to my house.