I wonder what river they came from.

RIVER ROCKS BY PETER GORDON 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 12

Captured in two-pound plastic bags

Piled on pallets, taller than a man

I wonder what river they came from—

Trout stream in Montana, perhaps

Where clear rushing water

Rocked them in their riverbed

Sun sparkled surface winking at

White-wreathed mountains ringing the valley

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Slice open a sack of white and brown pebbles

Grasp their water-worn roundness

Talismans of the mighty Mississippi

Flowing in my backyard between paving stones

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More likely these rocks were raised from gravel pits

Off Highway 50 just outside of town

Not roiling waters rolling them from hilltops

To land in Florida garnishing my garden

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If a rock claims the august ancestry

Of a river who am I to dispute it?

Let us all be what we wish, not what we were

Baptized in shades of white and brown

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PETER GORDON

I am a freelance writer on the media. I was a television programming executive for HBO, PBS, and Golf Channel. I have been writing poetry for years, and my poetry has been published in…