Hold a perfect blue stone, find
its form in the closing
of your grip upon it
so perfectly sized for your fist;
its bruise color a match
for the cloud coming in
that day of the summer storm
that never quite materialized.
Be reminded every word
should be chosen
as carefully as this stone
in hand
or the lyric
of some song unto god
sung whether believing or not.
Tom Driscoll Writing 