I made fun of it for years
A jumbled circle of mismatched rocks and stones
rambling in a deserted parking lot
Behind Pizza Hut and the lutheran church
There was even a bench there
To sit and stare at the stepping stone circles
Like watching grass grow
Passing for entertainment
Waiting for rocks to move
It was me that needed to move
To follow the intricate design of
Passages and tracks
Deadends and restarts
Hidden in the wild pasture grasses and weeds
To the heartbeat center
I laughed at it for years
Called it names
Wondered why it was hidden under
The pines at the old lutheran church
Called it witchcraft, voodoo and cultish
Foolish and illusion
Artifice and conjuring.
A giant pebble talisman
The ores grow smaller through decades
As prairie dust fills in spaces between
But I can still recognize them
River rolled sandstone, granite, limestone, marble, slate
Ancient corals, lava, basalt, agate, quartz
Dolomite, obsidian, alabaster
Now the joke is a mystery that I stare at
From the marble bench.
I showed this inexplicable puzzle to many.
Only One saw and understood.
Apparently the only person
In this county that recognized
The simple spiral of stones
It’s my temple now
Made of ponderosa pines
And their 40 years of piled needles
Sometimes, I pick up a single cobble and study it.
It didn’t come from here
Someone took great effort and thought
To bring it here, place it
In its predestined design
Sometimes, I try to follow the old outline
And replace where the boulders have
Been intentionally or unintentionally disturbed.
A shed disturbs some of the outline
And I can’t determine a fix for the ancient pattern
She would know.
But she, too, is now lost
In her own conglomerate maze
I wonder how many have sat in my
Cried my tears
Prayed my prayers
Wondered my questions
And left a fragment of
metamorphic stone behind