A stone cast from the sky by the gods
Landed in her garden next to a purple turtle
Because it was the only color
Of paint available at the time, not the stone,
Which was the color of a missed connection,
But the turtle which had been art and crafted
In bright kelly green and egg yellow,
Hideous amidst the spearmint, which even weedy,
Knew a gaudy neighbor when it saw one.
Listen, the gods said to her, this is who
You are. This stone. Your name means
The same thing. Stone. Rock. Don’t spend
Your life trying to avoid it. You might paint
Your pedestal in a subtler shade, pleasing
To the eye, but underneath you will always
Be the substance of the earth, worn by time
And water and sun, dust and mist and foot.
You will always be the gaudy neighbor.
Why do you act like you didn’t know this?
–Shaun Perkins
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry 
This poem speaks to me in quiet whispers and racous shouts. Lovely.