He pressed a rounded stone into my hand. He said, "Take care of this," and turned away To tend to things we needed for our trip: The boats, the lines, the paddles, and the rest. The stone was not like those about my feet. I wondered at the stone, but not for long. I put it in my pocket and forgot. The Huzzah winds along a valley floor Between thick stands of trees and rocky bluffs. Its water is a marvel to behold, Like crystal ichor flowing in God's veins. I thought of all these things, and not the stone, But in my pocket it was safe and sound. And that was well, for when we came ashore My uncle asked me for the rounded stone. He placed it on the bank beside its twin. "As easy as it was for you," he said, "To bring this back to where I picked it up, So light you sit within your Maker's hand. The stone was not aware you carried it, And sometimes we are just the same. But He Is wise, and kind, and big and strong enough To bring you safely to your journey's end. We're going where we came from." So he said. I miss him, but I know we'll meet again. Benjamin Daniel Lukey was born in 1986. He has lived all over the Eastern United States and currently resides near Charlotte, North Carolina. He teaches high school English classes whenever he is not fishing or writing poetry. His work has previously appeared in Edify Fiction and The Mystic Blue Review.