Today’s Ragtag Daily Prompt is “Gold“. This poem was published a couple years ago at Red Wolf Journal, but I thought it might be worth a second look…
Chase
The old man scoops another
thin scrape of riverbank, dips
the rim to drown the till,
swirls the pan. Part of the dig
slips over the edge with every
circle. The murky water clears.
Sandy granite. Schist. A glint
of mica. The man looks up.
The sun is gold in a blue sky.
The man sits still, resigned.
He sighs; scoops; swirls; spills.
He wills himself to wait.
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RDP #50; Gold
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