Perfect stone <br />that fit perfectly <br /> <br />into the palm <br />of his hand <br /> <br />as if God <br />had fashioned <br />it for it <br /> <br />my uncle skims <br />the smoothness of the stone <br /> <br />across the surface of the Crosshaven sea <br /> <br />where after 3 <br />perfect skips <br /> <br />it hits <br />the horizon <br /> <br />knocking the sun <br />down with a gong <br /> <br />staining the water.<br /><br />Dónall Dempsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/as-we-turned-to-go/
