If on that January afternoon
you had been standing near the ragged heap of rocks
where we had just added ours
and heard our laughter (but not seen us),
you would have guessed, perhaps,
three twelve-year-old girls escaped from a boring class,
not three women.
A thin layer of ice,
not quite reaching the shore,
created a large crystal drum, as we three sisters by choice
(when would we be together again?)
skipped our stones, making music,
zinging notes that echoed on to
the far edge of the dark tree-bordered bowl.
For a few minutes we competed,
searching along the shore for the best stone
and then aiming it carefully
to see who could make the music last longest,
but competing was not for us
we laughed and marveled at this moment.
Then, together, we each threw one last stone,
And hurried away,
Before silence could begin.
© Barbara Scoblic 2019