This poem was published in
Issue 3
May 2003
Listen 4' 26" | Audio help
The shadows over the stones are long
it is late afternoon
the traveller has stopped
his feet on a perfect hexagon
to examine a pebble
not knowing that pebbles are dropped
as decoys along the way
The birds that have seen
so many wanderers
follow his steps with their reedy notes
one sound for each stone
those that he treads on
those he does not
they will fly into the air at dusk
the ferns will grow over the roadway
before he can reach the next one.