A Clever Arrangement Of Stones Poem by Paul C. Maybury Jr.

We go today up Peter's hill,
my dog and I up pine trail walk.
We reach the top, a kind of sill
I set my old bones on a rock.

For they are very weary old bones,
and the granite is carved in blocks.
A clever arrangement of very old stones
people sure do love their rocks.

My dog and I look down the hill
From that stone, holding those old bones,
gray rain clouds make the air feel chill
As we sit on the clever arrangement of stones.

At the hill's bottom there's kind of a gleam
And then trees rise up misty and green.
Could be a puddle or even a stream
To old eyes its not clearly seen.

And dim in gray distance a city is etched
Just beneath sky's edge and lowering cloud.
Across the horizon old Boston is stretched
But the rain in the trees is getting quite loud.

My dog's fur is starting to mold to his side
As he looks at me kind of forlorn.
He awaits in his patience for what I decide
If from my deep thoughts I'll be torn.

The falling rain brings the smell of the sea
out of sight as it is beyond the far town.
No shelter I find under high branching tree
And the rain now it starts to pelt down.

I pull my hat lower and my collar up
We start down the back of the hill.
I call and he's with me, the very wet pup
The cold drops on both of us still.

Our way takes us lower and left the trail bends
On the path that leads over old bones.
They also are resting as dirt with them blends
'Neath a clever arrangement of stones.