Pebbles in the stream



The pebble dropped into the stream

may roll down to the ocean vast and blue,

or, like your love, sink forgotten

into weed-choked mud.


Rain on stone,

pattering cold from stony sky,

washes the dust and the clinging grime,

washes clean

for memories to build anew.


No light in this air,

this day of damp and dinge,

cold clings like a second skin,


and relentless as the mud-gorged river.


Once so clear, the future,

decked with diamonds bright as stars,

dense and dull now as the river,

swollen with sorrowing rain

and the debris of broken things.


Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

7 thoughts on “Pebbles in the stream”

  1. I like the sorrow in this, the use of your words to ‘mark’ figuratively and literally, the landscape you have chosen, with those observations that best speak to the sorrow. In this I find the words of regret and observance of loss, reflected back through nature.

    1. I’m glad you found that in it. It’s what I try to do, or rather it seems the most ‘normal’ way to think about loss and regret. Nature is what links us to the real essence of what we are, the futilities and idiocies stripped away.

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