The Wet Stone

[Verse 1]
Ansel kept his watch set to the Rockland ferry, not the sun.
Another Tuesday, 4:18 AM, the coffee wasn't done.
He’d pull his boots on by the door, the leather stiff with brine,
And walk the shingle to the shore, a dead-straight, practiced line.

[Chorus]
And turn the wet stone over,
Just to see what held beneath.
Turn the wet stone over,
Then put it back to sleep.

[Verse 2]
The granite had a perfect heft, a flat spot for his thumb,
It smelled of low tide, what was left when all the sound goes numb.
He’d watch the sand-fleas scatter from the sudden, shocking light,
A little kingdom, built and wrecked between the day and night.

[Chorus]
And turn the wet stone over,
Just to see what held beneath.
Turn the wet stone over,
Then put it back to sleep.

[Bridge]
His grandson saw him once, last fall, a silhouette in gray.
And called out, voice still thick with sleep, "Gramp, what's down there anyway?"
Ansel froze, then cleared his throat, a cough of salt and phlegm.
"Just checkin' the foundation, kid. Can't let the rot get in."

[Chorus]
He turned the wet stone over,
Didn't see what held beneath.
Just turned the wet stone over,
And put it back to sleep.

[Coda]
A soft click on the other stones.
And then the coming tide.