His geodes and minerals—

memories,

were placed in the soil beneath the rain spout.

Amethyst and quartz, wildly out of place
in the most magical way.

I squat down over them, enchanted.
Where did they come from?
How did they get here?
Can they come home with me and join my rock collection?

He explained they were serving a purpose—
helping the water run off,
holding the soil from muddy slipperiness.

I couldn’t take any home with me;
he still needed them.

This I understood,
and I appreciated them from afar—
always checking on that glittering pile of hope
to make sure they stayed put.

© 2025 Raven | Jasmine on the Grave. All rights reserved.