Remembering Rocks

Remembering rocks, then do not mourn the fawn-

Dappled fairy bells, the windflowers, ferns,

The pale pink mimuli, when these are gone;

The fireweed and the paintbrush on the burns,

The columbines and the ethereal rue. . . .

Remembering rocks whereof the hills are built,

That buttress summer's evanescent hue

With meager leaf-mold and with crevised silt-

Remembering, do not bemoan the sheath

Of bough and bloom, autumn-stripped from boulders,

For then is bared the source of strength beneath,

The granite thighs, the sky-encumbered shoulders-

Earth's old fire-welded frost-scarred verities;

And beauty draws its sustenance from these.

Ethel Romig Fuller

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