Stones

Stones of St. Mary's

Meandering folks dot the sidewalk,
peering in windows,
emerging from shops,
and crossing the street.
Manicured maples and ash, hyphenated by hanging flowers, on parade.
Modern manifestations of a place truly defined
by its enduring inhabitants
of silent stone.

A quilt of rough carved blocks at every turn.
In every detail, sandstone and garnet assert their place.
A bridge, countless stores, a hotel,
walls all around,
are only the start of describing this town.

Church spires rise high,
bricked to the sky, pointing to heaven.
Each limestone detail swept back on an angle
clearly calculated to project the impression
of an upward ascent.

Understated beauty,
deliberate patterns and placement,
mingle with a sense of wise acceptance of nature,
irregular shapes declaring,
without a sound,
that this is right.

Could the men who,
with mallet, chisel and wedge,
shaped this towns nature
comprehend their role?

More likely,
men who's daylight hours spent
swinging, chipping and splitting,
might emboss their work with a sense of pride,
stoic and silent as their stone,
quietly demonstrating the difference between,
those who dream,
and those who create.

I wonder,
if the bold lines seen here
are reflections
of an old stone cutter's face.

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