Canary Song
I don’t blame you
The digging is hard work
And this old rock
Bears little ore to sell
Panned hard and pawned
Under claim jumper hands
The golden joy
Spent by bad company
~~~
It is a hard place
Scarred by pick and shovel
Where more taken
Then what is left behind
But what is here
Is not always treasure
Ghosts haunt the mined
From cave-ins long ago
~~~
We whisper here
A hallowed hush enough
Scrape away stone
With hands calloused and rough
With hope to find
Just a speck of sparkle
Among the mud
A remnant of the good
~~~
Old prospectors
Still spin yarns of hidden
But dimly lit
It’s easy to get lost
Canary song
Will be your only sign
And what you find
May not be worth the cost
Some ‘stones’ don’t have a “speck of sparkle”, and although I’m a pessimist by nature, I believe that one speck may still have great value.
True words!
so powerful and now, stripped, nothing left, and much lost
Thanks, Beth!
Bellisimo
Grazie, bella!
despite the odds, for the prosectors, hope springs eternal…
thanks, goodness for the canary…
Who would have ever thought that having a little bird would come in handy?….😂
🙂
Beautiful! Great work Brad! “And what you find may not be worth the cost.” Great closing! All the best to you my friend!
Thank you, Brother!
You & those brilliantly gorgeous endings!! 😍😍😍
A strong close is the kiss after a long lean in….
Very true, but you execute it perfectly!
Are you saying I kiss good?!? 😘💋😘
Haha! Indeed. You’re an amazing literary kisser. 😘😘💋