NaPoWriMo #20

What stones tell tales
to waterfalls or wandering streams?
How many crystal skulls
sparkle in forgotten caves
or the closets of way-out-there worshipers?
Under foot, branches snap
and grasses scrunch,
every bit the Egyptologist
with my scarab charms
and my work-beige shirt.
Everything but the sand
and golden history
the tools that scrape, dig, brush
discover
everything but everything.
Bright blue beetles vibrate
around my neck.
Have we been saved?

Wait
for the crack of the greatest Stone.


© 2013 Robin A. Sams

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