Jökulsarlon

“I plucked six lovely, round stones
from the cold, black sand.

Their smooth colors were quiet
beside the heavy fall of the northern waves.

For each pebble,
I will remember one lonely iceberg
washed up on the shore-
ten thousand years of glacial memory
melting
melting into the vast
vast echo of the ocean sub rosa.

I picked up six stones
that could hold the memory
of the grey sky and the fresh air,

of the way I felt when
I plucked six beautiful stones
from the cold, black sand.

Upon returning
to that day,
my mind provokes
a smile of solitude that is more
than daffodil joy or stumbling upon
a picture some years later,

because I thought ahead
I saw the value of the moment
and the the pinhole through
which it would slowly slip away,

so I saved
those six little memories, and I lined them up
along my little kitchen window.”

Ezra

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