by Julie A. Dickson


Precariously perched on hanging ledge,

distant rumble of thunder, 

ground trembles,

tumble of granite breaks free.


Slow motion fall, rolls to rest,

haphazardly hewn on mountain path,

uncut gems lying forgotten.


Mica flecks sparkle in sunlight,

fallen from somewhere high above, 

once part of a whole,

fragments of forever.