Feb 2015
He picked up a pebble
and threw it into the sea.
And another, and another.
He couldn't stop.
He wasn't trying to fill the sea.
He wasn't trying to empty the beach.
He was just throwing away,
nothing else but.
Like a kitten playing
he was practicing for the future
when there'll be so many things
he'll want to throw away
if only his fingers will unclench
and let them go.
-Norman MacCaig
and threw it into the sea.
And another, and another.
He couldn't stop.
He wasn't trying to fill the sea.
He wasn't trying to empty the beach.
He was just throwing away,
nothing else but.
Like a kitten playing
he was practicing for the future
when there'll be so many things
he'll want to throw away
if only his fingers will unclench
and let them go.
-Norman MacCaig
As this is one of my favourite pieces of poetry and I couldn't find a page for MacCaig I felt the need to share it. It struck a chord with me the very first time I read it and every time since. So earnest, so simple.
