Where do we find hope
How do we find faith
When do we get a glance at
tomorrow, without vectoring
I stroll the trails behind my home
Paths of small wonders
Ducks and geese making nests
Paddling the remaining water
Sitting on clumps of earth
waiting for the world to dry up
Purposefully set in surprising places
are tiny gifts to bring a taste back to life
Small bits of granite and quartz
Tiny rounds of stone without category
Painted to catch the eye
They appear suddenly
on a bench seat
on a fence post
beside a sign telling us
to maintain our distance
They are brightly colored or
somber hued like flowers
still awaiting spring’s birth
They hold sharp lines of lightening
curves of mandalas
Some with a line or two of hope
in tiny cursive paint
There aren’t many
They are spaced like drops of glitter
in random spots
at bridge’s end
or by a power box
They convey hope and despair
at once
They marvel the eye but remain
distant from touch
They are the perfect size
for a hand palm or
to be held with two fingers to
examine in the light.
Are they decorated on the back
as well as front
In Corona Caution we will never know
A day later some are gone
Shifted to a new place
Pocketed or tossed aside
The hope they shared
replaced by vacancy
Heart stones of faith
like those we carry inside
Our decorated beats inscribed with lines of hope
Waiting for someone to spot and hold them
Praying not to be chucked into the woods
never to be seen again.