A Stone From Clear Waters Poem by Cody Marks

I find in the clear, reflecting pools,
A stone, smooth to one's touch,
Grasping a finished masterpiece
A handiwork of Teton's waters.

The mountains reflect rising peaks,
Piercing the blue of Wyoming skies
Majestic trophies of creation,
That, I in my hands, may never create.

The smooth stone recites a tale,
Not with the echo of spoken words,
But in its testament of completion
A once ragged and sharp object.

How long, this art piece,
Nature took to perfect,
That I cannot yet, surely say,
I simply know it is finished.

Refined to the touch
Retaining yet the coolness
Of still clear waters,
That I have been led to.

It reminds me of the psalms
The one brought to a place of refining
Stillness, peace, beauty, joy,
My feeble words scarcely describe it.

I recite again these words of peace
That, the circumstances that frighten me,
Compare not to the sheer beauty
Wildly untamed and unleashed.

And yet it is the untamed wilderness,
Better able to refine the stones
Than any mortal hands of any man
Could ever dream or hope to do.

Yet it would seem that the leaves,
The rolling, soft billowed waters,
Smoothing the choir of stones
There is something left to sing to me.