Rocks in My Pocket

Spent most of my youth
Out hobo cruising.
And all I got for proof...
Is rocks in my pockets and dirt in my shoes.
So goodbye nonbeliever
Don’t you know that I hate to leave here.
So long babe, I got the flashback blues.
--John Prine

I've been picking up things lately...broken pieces of glass....rocks...car reflectors. Things I would never have touched in years past. My studio sits across the street from the railroad tracks and I walk about a quarter of a mile to the bus that brings me back to son and dog and dinner needing to be made. Domicile and Domesticity. It's a journey that takes about 45 minutes and somehow lends ease to the transition.

Sterling silver, rocks, pearls, Moonstones, and steel.