Brewed Beverage of Choice: A cup of Yerba Mate
It was buried there, deep
in the sands of the river
bed, covered by the silt
and the sand laid down
by years of the passing river.
I do not know why I began
digging that day through the cool,
damp sand. I merely bent
down and knelt, knees sinking
in the silt, hand by hand
throwing the sand and the silt
to and fro, left and right,
not seeking any treasure,
just frantically digging for what
lay beneath. And there it appeared,
an onyx stone polished clean
by eons of erosion,
by centuries of love
from the mighty river. I lift it,
rinse it, and admire it for hours.
In my palms it rests, the sun
Reflected on its black face,
The moon caressing its shiny skin.
And with a kiss I toss it
back into the mighty river.