Stones
Before dawn,
Things were dripping,
Shuffling,
There they found the lost keys,
Answers out-loud on the shelf,
Punctual gestures, worn-out boots.
One was torn by this unspoken message:
“Love is mercy.”
Then at thunderstormed weekends,
They would fill the room with mountainous tenderness,
From the floor to the ceiling.
Shoulders hunched.
Nature, too, bears the pain within.