Basic rules are, If it's heavy it will sink If it's light it will glide Right? I wiggle my toes in the sand Their movement appears almost alien Like arachnid motion of appendages Or my index toe's unnatural elongation. Standing still I hold my breath Just like I hold the stone in hand I angle it horizontal to the horizon And release it with a force that knocks me backward The cannon ball strikes, sinking deep in it's crater. How could this be? It was the perfect length, size, and shape... But the oceans waves's crash says "hush" And the seagull shrieks disapprovingly And the crab's wiggling dance screams exit, Breaks my expiring new heart. Now, my second toe's reach dominance remains But it differs by a patch of thin hairs. I did not seek it yet stumble upon it, A perfect oval Smoothen by time and salt water It's presence on my hand, a natural unison I release it with a form matured by youth's persistence. A shooting star strikes the surface, With the waves crash, a roar of approval And the seagull's continuous chanting of "mine, mine" And the frantic clapping emitting from the crab's claws And the endless ripples Of a stone's second shot.
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