Panned: A Poem

The miry clay scraped aside

my hands, caked thick with muck,

I stare into my palm

at the nugget I’ve unearthed.

 

The water pours reluctantly

a canteen cascade of glugs and gasps

 

is it just another stone?

a jolt of rusty hope

rattles in my chest.

 

the ragged dream

fills the corners of these old eyes

and spills down a familiar crease in my face.

 

It’s iron pyrite, by gum.

Blast it all!

 

~Robert JV Christensen