Skimming Stones

She feels the cool against her palm,
The weight upon her fingertips.
Somewhere a leaf falls.

Her foot breaks
The fragile leaves beneath her,
Fracturing dried veins,
Crushing soft pine needles.
The crack and snap
Echo through the trees
Reaching through the air.
Wind envelopes the newly fallen reds
And oranges, bearing
The leaves through the maze of brambles and branches.

Her hair cuts
Across her forehead and cheek,
Now pink with surfacing blood vessels.
She pulls her flannel around her,
The red plaid melting
With her surroundings.

The river water runs
Slowly gurgling and bubbling
Across gravel and sand,
Leaking into a lake: a crudely cut
Shelf of glass.

Flicking her wrist, she releases
The stone.
It slides through her fingers
That twitch to cling
To smooth, cold surface
As if it carries her life.
It stone breaks the glass,
Shattering the smooth surface.

The wind picks up.
Somewhere a leaf falls.