River Stones

I used to Imagine that the stones
At the bottom of the river
Were made because
God took a little piece of the moon
Or the sun
Sanded it down
To its smooth smooth shape
Chiseled its divots
With a diamond pin
Colored it lovely
With night time
Or clouds
Or rose petal paint
And polished it up
With a pinch of light
Then he left it on the riverbed
In its cradle of dirt
For someone lucky
To find