I would go out
look for treasure
a speck of mica
was all it took
fleck of bright feather
I'm growing old
so much did I find
the treasure I left
my eyes are dimmed
more over heaven
the sky is so blue
this rain is precious
why couldn't I love you
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ReplyDelete(NB Please let the record reflect that this very small poem was inspired by recent photographs by the artist Bernard Hemensley, in Dorset, who is far from the dry bush of the Goulburn Valley in Victoria, Australia where I reside. Please do a search for his work. You will find it.)