A place three fields across

From where I was living,

The resting place of a certain stone

Face first to the sun.

Whenever I felt the world break loose

I took my hammer from the shed

And brought it to that field where

I stood at the foot of the rock

And beat it quick at first

Then slow bursts with each blow

A fraction of rage evaporated.

I made the earth uncomfortable with my hammer

And the earth did nothing but feel sorry

For my anger.

As I cast no reflection in the stone.