Friday, September 17, 2010

Gold Panner

his eyes, like gold they glitter
golden cat eyes
greedy with the quickening winter
crowbar & garlic breath
down by the river
rushing cold water
teeth chatter, shoulders shiver
what mineral delights,
iron-stained, sand-mingled,
will the banks of the Fraser
choose to deliver?
or reveal...

in the instant of discovery
do waves wash over you?
does your soul,
a patient alchemist,
miss the minutes and hours
that the seeking
of precious nuggets,
flakes and flower
must (in favour of physics
and thermodynamics)

the treasure you stockpile
is weighty with value
stock market and otherwise
but money
never makes a man wise.
it is your soul
that, inlaid with gold,
can only appreciate
and never be sold.

No comments:

Post a Comment