There is no place I am not

I spent some time looking for the meaning of three placed stones in a desert. I did my research on trail markers and cairns, the ancient practice of leaving stones to mark our comings and goings. I believe it is more simple than that. No burning bush, but three stones, one placed on one placed on one in a desolate place. No place I am not.

It is night

I dream myself

In the middle of a desert,

Sand

As far as the eye can see.

There is me

And sand

And three stones,

One set upon one set upon one.

Stones placed

In the middle of the desert,

One upon one upon one

And me

There is no place

I am not,

He says,

She says.

One in three,

Sand as far

As the eye can see

Three placed stones.

No place I am not.

Broken shells

I think the sand and shells are the last piece of me to inhabit the office.  Thank you, Ginga.  Now I think it*s completely set for whoever comes in or goes out the door.

Years ago a friend

I have never met,

Mailed me a box

Of white South Carolina sand

In a zip-lock bag.

Tucked next to the sand

Was another bag filled

With shells she had collected

On the beach.

One or two shells are whole.

Most are broken.

I have always liked the broken ones

Best.

This week I brought the sand and shells

To my office.

They live in a clear glass

Soufflé dish

Under the lamp

Next to the entrance.

Now I see them

When I come

And go.

I am reminded

Of ocean and sand and shells,

And friends,

Even the ones I have never met

Face-to-face.

In the sometimes bleak steppes of Illinois

I am reminded of the ocean.

I see the sand and shells

When I come,

When I go.

Still I like the broken ones

Best.