star-sharpened stones

aspin catkins

As stones sit
In the dusty autumn grass,
I can see them grow,
Give birth to stars.

Once a volcano’s heart,
They crystallised,
And broke and went
Out to be quarried.

Now they catch
Onto the sun’s heat and joy
With freshly-cut prisms
And inlets of quartz.

Transparent, ready to jump
At the first inkling
Of star-shaped holes
When skies open before dawn,

The little sharp rocks wait
And watch us in passing.

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