This world's a story filled with stones: those five smooth ones; some temple tumbling to; a mountain's stubborn bones. Take this one,
pocked, rounded, smoothed, rocked by currents sure they'd find the way. Blue (or vaguely gray), flecked gold no miners mine, or can,
diminished thing from David's bolder day, it chooses you. Palmed in your closing hand, it's good, the heft of it, live weight to tell a tale that's true.