the tripping stone lies round
Aug 29, 2017 · 1 min read

The tripping stone lies round, waiting, able
Hoof-hidden in the cool Dependencies
On the now dry floor of the empty stable.
Most of this little mountain looms unseen,
A bane to make a life unbearable,
Slaving to watch footfalls, assure they’re clean.
Justice pulls the focus of hands, mind, heart.
Eyes veiled blind in the southern garden light
Fail to see sliding grubs, glistening dark,
Feeding on roots, sometimes fruit, eating part
Earth, part sun, part muck, part nectar and delight.
Raising liberty and broad beans leaves its mark.
Standing leg twisted and smarting, my eyes
Overlook frank follies veiling fair skies
Now lit with night and bright bright stones that rise.
On my Medium poems: “about these poems” — T L Oberman.

