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…