Rocks

My husband
Brings home rocks
And sets them,
Like a treasure,
In the middle of the table.

I don’t know what to do
With all of them.
They are interesting,
Most of them, to look at,
But numerous,
And not a part
Of the decorating plan.

There are photographs,
Sculptures and paintings,
Books and clocks-
And rocks.

I set them along edges,
In window sills,
Line them up on the porch.

And when I think
I’ve taken care
Of all of them,

He brings home another,
Fascinated and proud
And sets it
In the middle of the table.

By Maria Brady-Smith
Photo by Mike Smith