My ears itched the other day
voices caught up with me
traveling the speed of wind
words skip across
time like stones
sidarmed into ripples
a beach full of onlookers
feet crunch atop the pebbles
casting a stone
planting a seed
growing a flower
pulling a weed
karma may be as gardens
tended by the faithful
producing understanding
catching up to us all
gifts in hand
***
shannon p. laws 