Stone emerges from the mist,
sibilant like a lizard’s hiss,
then wth a moan of an ancient beast
It ends on a drone.
Rock is hard, a tiger’s growl,
A roar like a rising wave
Slamming against the cliff
exploding hard in spray.
Stone is smooth and round
to hold in your hand
weather worn,
a sacred sound.
Stonehenge is stone.
Rock is sharp and harsh.
Jagged, dense, a shock
Like climbing a talus slope.
Rock is secular and has
no pity.
A New Mexican Poet 