Haven't done anything writing related today. But I did read more of the manuscript I'm reviewing and, of course, I worked more on this site. Just can't help myself. I'm on a roll.
From the Vault--
This is the first poem I ever had accepted for publication and it was never published.
I can't hear what the stone is saying to me,
it speaks too softly. I sit with my face down
because I am ashamed. The rock knows the
grass and the sky and the light on the water,
the shape of my head leaning against the tree.
I am too large to be silent. Too hard to be
listening to hear things, like water falling over stones.