The Story of a Stone
by Jean Di Motto My father was an edgy, craggy rock who calved off a low mountain
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Like his father he was multi-hued gray granite stately, quiet, still My father bounced and rolled, skidded and slowed splashing into a small creek There he rested while the clear water washed ev’ry nook of his body Some years before my mother had slid gracefully to a nearby spot