by Andrea Fodor Litkei
To touch them is to know
The bones of our bejeweled earth.
Aeons of majesty – they rise
Forming cliffs to hold the sea.
Rocks around the clock
Before we knew we were
Watched by rocks,
Held by rocks,
Clung to and saved by rocks.
And if by chance a miniature
Should rest on desk or table;
Mountainous within its smallness:
The Universe is brought to size
As palm encloses it – and we belong.