Air dry today.

Mudstone, sandstone,

a smooth purple maroon.

Scars from glacial residue

Ceramic, tectonic plates.

Searching for a treasure

A quartz, a bone,

an organism

preserved in sedimentary rock,

lying within this basin.

Dust, sprinkled like

powder, cakes, sinking

into ridges and valleys

of fingerprints.

This tedious activity can only

hold us for so long.

A slice of rock

like sidewalk chalk

Itself used on itself.

Make the Mountain a smile.

Features for a slate of blank face

drawn by the child

masquerading as college student.

Mudstone;

smoother than sand.

Bloomsburg sandstone

A memory from the summer.

Did you know that there are

no Mountains in New Jersey?

Atop Kittatinny, the far seeing Ridge.

This derelict overgrown path

knows us too well

In both fading cement, and dirt

covered in an airy layer of ferns.

Too familiar is the patterning

of little sneakers

following the heavy boots

of a camp counselor.

This tedious activity can only

hold us for so long.

Bloomsburg sandstones

are magic, you know.

If you make a wish on one

it will come true,

but only if you pass it on

to someone else,

and tell them to wish on it.

Every wish strengthens its power

So let’s pass it down the mountain.

Anique Evans is a Senior Theatre Performance major with minors in Creative Writing and Music Vocal Performance. She has previously been published in Variance Magazine, and is proud to say that she has now published works in fiction, poetry, and nonfiction in her time here at Susquehanna. Sometimes she doesn’t know how she’s managed to survive these past four years, but she is grateful for all the memories she has made.