Montana Poet Laureate

I went to a reading tonight from Montana's Poet Laureate. He was pretty good.

HOLDING THE STONE

You must hold it close to your ear, and
when it speaks to you, you must respond
Richard Hugo

I found it by the Clark Fork
on a high bank above the river
where someone dumped remains
of an old road, broken slabs
of concrete crowding the river stones.

I admit my first thought was throw it,
skip it on the surface going gold
in sunset, dimple the water like
whitefish rising, give it back
to the river that gave it shape and color.
But once in my hand its calm
And luck took hold.

On the bank the dog found
something dead to roll in. She
perked her ears as if to listen,
wagged her tail, shook herself proud
in primal perfume. Her good-luck
demeanor almost won me over,
but still I had to bathe her in the river.

That was years ago, first night
In Missoula, first home, a motel
by the river. Now I have a son.
And I still have the stone. Its color
changes. It goes from brown to gray
to green like the year. I hold it close
to my ear and listen.