Skipping Stones

At the close of summer's day
The sky took on its colored tones
And found us idling by the bay,
Killing time and skipping stones.

The little rings the stones would make
As they cartwheeled across the pond,
Soon grew so large that they would shake
The farthest-dwelling plant or frond.

Soon all our rocks had been thrown out
So we held hands and headed home;
He kissed me gently on the mouth
And in my chest, there skipped a stone-

The ripples were first small and slight,
Then spread from toes to fingertips;
I soon was giddy, heart aflight
And head a-spin from his sweet kiss.

As we walked on, I strained my neck
To see again that rippling lake-
For who can doubt the great effect
That a kiss or a stone can make?