PEBBLES:

Round pebbles, rumbling, tumbling, rolling & trundling,

Kissed by passing fins of salmon, caressing & fumbling,

Dragonflies nosily from above, prodding & delicate poking,

With dappled sunbeams through green wavelets stroking.

On silt river bed lie basking, pebbles smooth & rounded,

Rocks of ages, moulded & by time & cold water pounded,

Cascading waterfalls, icy, tickling & relating ancient tales,

To little rounded pebbles, home to bubbles, fins & scales.

Little fingers grasping, wee summer pebbles white & small,

 Carried back to pretty gardens, with trees big shady & tall,

Then tossed into domesticity of little cool & pristine ponds,

Where baby frogs go leaping & willows quench their fronds.

Graced by stony gnomes & the pensive half dressed muse,

And the cute baby boys, depicted as piddling nude statues,

Little pebbles, missing the music of bigger dancing stones,

In their tiny little hearts, they miss their silted river homes,

And while pretty water lilies sit still & blushing pinkly ponder,

Little rounded pebbles dream of homes far away & yonder.