Danaë

We have been promised gold like this before …

But, now it glows on trees, we can't ignore it.

One day we'll harvest it … Or mine it, rather,

the way we mine our minds with endless words

to let the world know just how poor we are.

But, now we merely look on it with wonder,

it longs to fall into our hands … (Else cling

onto its former glories, like the sun

with all its gold, to these few trees, in lieu

of some more final settlement with power).

Its gold is everywhere! Beneath our feet

as well as high above our heads, or drifting

towards the ground through ice-blue air, as if

the sun itself were showering us with blessings,

like gold leaf, say, or some more potent flour.

John H.B. Martin is a poet who lives in London, England. He is a graduate of London University and Australia National University and has been writing for many decades. He has written four novels and is working on a fifth. His magnum opus is a six-volume epic poem. Most of his work is yet to be published.