Gyroscope Review 16-2 - Page 59

I WILL BE A PEBBLE by Roberta Feins a pebble falling down a deep well – silence, silence till a small choked sound rises sounds from the gloom, like grief A drop of water switches places with the stone. Seizing the moment, a tear has thrown itself high into dim air into the cool moist air below the surface, below tree roots cradling my father and mother. See the gray metal pail one of the gardeners has brought filled with tulips to plant around the sycamore at the end of the row of markers. When they are all planted, tucked into a soil growing chill with winter, when the gardener is walking back to the shed winding through th H[