Wind, blow –
lift me high, don’t
let go;

fly me
far, above sand
and sea.

Monsoon –
take me, let’s chase
the moon.

– Ryan Stone


Boys in the Park

With the abandon
of two small dust devils
they swirl around me,
laughter and squeals,
before blowing past
and away. Twigs hug
their hair, one has sand
on his cheek–they’ll need
baths later–but for now
life is seesaws and smiles.
They tumble together,
mischief and giggles,
and the sun breaks
through clouds
for awhile.

Ryan Stone



I am he who worships Spring
in moonlit mountain shallows.

I am he who watches you,
insubstantial shadow.

I am he who brings night’s ship
safe to morning’s shore.

I am he who loves you,
your servant, evermore.

Ryan Stone


Into the Wind

Night reigns in this abyss.
No light. All is dark, all dead.
I sit and mourn for moments
lost. The skull and bones
lie crossed.

I board a ship and sail away –
bound for freedom; to fly
the eagle’s byways, soar
the wind’s roar, sleep the steely night
safe from Winter’s hoar.

A mother cries, a baby dies;
I ride skies on halcyon wings,
feathered wings of days now passed.
On the wind, I glide; blasting by,
fading fast.

Ryan Stone