Prospecting
Though shoulders
burn, and
my heart runs
on empty,
Let me mine hope --
nascent and lacking
magnetic north --
from this day --
As flecks of gold
appearing dull
fill my river pan
of sifted silt.
Published by
Martha T. Terrell
© Martha T. Terrell and WordShelter.com, 2018 - 2025. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Martha T. Terrell and WordShelter.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
View all posts by Martha T. Terrell