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.