Black basalt
was once molten
flowing fire
that scorched earth
before firming to bedrock
foundation the river carved
until people saw
a bowl and pitcher

Water pulls at the old soul part of me
rolling sweeping flowing
rivers call out
if I wade, I become another rock
or felled limb
the water goes around

Rock sings
beyond our frequency
we know because
ground stones
turned in blower’s hands
fuse glass that rings

I am drawn to the ground
that nourishes plants
and lulled by rhythmic water
powerful persistence
beneath its slip sliding ways
First, though, was fire
then the cold air
cooling into life