The Sentinel

It stood as a sentinel

Guarding the backyard.

It never demanded recognition

But always received admiration.

The rock, more like a boulder,

Stood at the corner of our house.

Offering refuge and comfort.

It did not judge,

it was not critical.

A safe haven

for all who sat and climbed on it.

It could accommodate all kids,

And cats, and even a dog.

And it did not complain.

Summers were spent

Lying on the rock

Beneath the limbs of its neighbor tree.

I would lie on the rock and daydream

In the sun with the cool breezes of a Michigan summer

Blowing over me.

King of the rock was a game would play.

The rock never demanded attention, or proclaim its existence.

It simply was.

A product of the world

Neither made or shaped by man.

Silent in its being

But providing comfort in its permanence

I could always depend on the rock being there.

A sanctuary of my childhood.

A fortress from the world.