The River Stones.

“I cannot see the stones,” they said. They thought themselves stranded on the water’s edge. But if they just stepped slowly and took their time, they would be fine.

There is nothing in this world I can do to bring the stones into better view. I cannot raise the stones, nor can I make the water fall. I cannot do it all.

“Chop down that tree to help us cross.”

“But what did that tree do to deserve such loss? Should we take its life for the benefit of you?”

“Then we’ll stay.”

Our destination would be just on the other side, and all they would have to do is follow my line. Instead they look on, confounded, waving goodbye.

Perhaps I would not be in the woods alone if I could have helped them see the stones.


The night sky is clear.

And the moon lends a smile to the river.

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