THE PEBBLE

Hilda Stob Poetry
December 1974
(Published in The Reformed Journal 12/74)
(To Joan)

I PICKED UP A PEBBLE FROM THE BEACH TODAY
AND LOOKED AT IT IN MY HAND,
IT FELT SO HARD AND SATINY SMOOTH;
WORN BY THE GRIST OF THE SAND.

HOW MANY YEARS OF WIND AND WAVE
DID IT TAKE TO MAKE IT THIS WAY?
HOW MANY YEARS AND TONS OF SAND
HAVE COVERED IT TILL TODAY?

AND SO DEAR FRIEND, GOD DOES TO US,
YEAR AFTER YEAR AFTER YEAR.
HURTING US, SHAPING US, ALWAYS FOR GOOD,
LOVELY, AT LAST TO APPEAR.

 

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