For A River of Stones
http://ariverofstones.blogspot.com/
The Hermit wants to be alone.
The Prophet needs a listening audience.
The Poet sits between these two,
dreaming of gray wooly clouds
hunkering down to warm the earth,
while shedding snow.
Elizabeth Crawford 1/14/11
1sojournal 
It’s funny as I approached the dreaming part, I was sure you would talk of wolves. You surprised me. Good one!
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Thanks Annell, but this is just how I felt this morning trying to think of what to put here, lol. No wolves, just heavy gray clouds without direct sunlight, and a bit of internal conflict. We all have those days.
Elizabeth
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WOW! My favorite stone so far. So beautiful………makes me proud to be a poet:)
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As you should be. I have a basket of stones I made from polymer clay with single words or phrases on them. When I couldn’t settle down about what to write this morning, I pulled one blindly out of the basket, hoping for inspiration. And the one I got was “ego.” Saw the Poet stuck between the Hermit and the Prophet and realized the Poet is often the ‘ego’ caught between the Hermit (ID and what it wants), and the Prophet (super-ego and its set of rules). It made sense to me, so it’s here, lol.
Elizabeth
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This reminded me of the first poem of yours that I ever read, and which stunned me with its beauty – The Call.
ViV
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Viv, that is where it comes from. I am obviously not done with these three yet. They keep poopping into my head and I will have to let them have their say at some point. Thanks for remembering, that original poem is definitely one of my favorites.
Elizabeth
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