prosperity

I sit,
crouched low by the river,
over my little pile of stones.
Fear is ripe and wild in me.
Am I enough? Can I do this?
I slide my fingers over the slick surface of a dark blue pebble.
Afraid
I will fail,
I raise my arm and throw hard.
It skips
one,
two,
three times.
Not enough.
Smaller grows the pile.
My heart clenches.
I take deeper breaths.
I lift another, round, green, and textured.
Prosperity sits laughing at me on a rock.
I take a breath and try again.
one,
two,
three.
I groan as the pebble sinks into the lake.
Seven seems impossible,
hard
and yet
I will try.
The sun warms my head,
my back,
the tops of my hands.
I have not tried everything yet.
I still have stones.
Across the lake,
prosperity sits eyeing me,
waiting to see if I will reach her.