Rocks and Words by Jim Babwe

Rocks and Words 

a poetic libretto by Jim D. Babwe 

 

One 

How long does it take 

to make rocks like these not quite 

round but beautiful? 

 

Two 

Gently rolled in sand, 

or heaved against the neighbors — 

each remains unique. 

 

Three 

Multicolored lines, 

infinite variations— 

individuals. 

 

Four 

Degrees of hardness, 

diamond comparisons— 

interdependent. 

 

Five 

Born from cauldron fire, 

expelled as glowing magma, 

air and water cooled. 

 

Six 

Sidewalks, buildings, roads — 

silent, patient endurance — 

strength measured by time. 

 

Seven 

Small slingshot ammo — 

David’s Goliath-killer. 

Etched headstone letters. 

 

Eight 

Granite’s relatives — 

variations of the theme. 

Aa, pahoihoi. 

 

Nine 

Amalgamated 

by Earth’s factory— 

no duplications. 

 

Ten 

Gravel, pebbles, stone 

known to break metal scissors — 

paper thinks it wins. 

 

Eleven 

Compressed history 

enduring through centuries 

sneering at our clocks. 

 

Twelve 

Sand’s wet persistence 

reduces giant boulders 

into tiny grains. 

Thirteen 

Transformed into glass, 

bullet-proof or brittle thin— 

windows made from rock. 

 

Fourteen 

Cut by diamond saws, 

slabs, tables, countertops, tiles, 

flagstones, bookends, weights. 

 

Fifteen 

Distant lunar mass 

pushes and pulls our oceans 

while rolling rocks roll. 

 

Sixteen 

Revolving around the Sun, 

our big rock races through space, 

and slightly to itself, 

changes shape with quakes 

and slides and storms 

(don’t forget explosions) 

as it (I mean Earth) 

remains more permanent (imperfectly) 

than  

us.