sons and daughters

you watch the man
move slowly towards
the lake, alone.
and he picks up
a flat stone,
rubbing it with
his fingers,
then sends it
sideways in a skim.
he's done this
before. you can
tell, the way
it skips across
the rippled blue
then sinks away.
you can almost hear
him say, perhaps
to a son or
daughter, okay,
now you try. take
your turn.