Stones from the tumbler
roll smoothly
in the hand;
warm the skin
nestle in.
I’m a tumbler stone
worn down
rounded
cuddley…
after 71 years.
No longer sharp edged:
cutting
pointing
directing.
Now,
circumspect
with shiny wisdom surface.
Wisdom
gathered
by rolling,
rushing in the stream,
open to the sun.
Now
I
run
to
ash.
Surrender to my transformation.
Welcome it!
The Vibrant Channeled Creator 