Way of Stones

by Meg Freer

Ancient mountains, always alive,
 
speak more forte than tree roots.
 
Stones work their way up to the surface
 
with sedimentary enthusiasm that wearies
 
the farmer, who never finishes picking rocks,
 
no matter how many times he has turned the soil.
 
He piles them into small mountains of their own
 
as corner posts for split rail fences, or shapes them
 
into walls at once metaphysical and domestic.

— from Juniper Volume 4, Issue 2