Sometimes I think poetry is

the time you first learned to skip

a rock across a glassy lake.

It touched the water five, maybe six times

before sinking below the surface.

You looked forever for the perfect one

to toss. Even though forever is where

the stone came from and returned to.

I don’t know for certain

all the places poetry can be found,

but if it lets me come back to these things

I’ll willingly continue the beautiful search.