A Million Gold Coins

Gossamer coins grown transparent at last A million gold pieces still on damp grass Waved green like a dream before wind sets them free Some glide on the stream others head to the sea Winters kindred spirits, leaves rustle down lanes The plural and singular will part as sad wains Unlike summers long day their existence so brief Twigs now left to tremble vacant, brittle in grief If you look very closely see their trembling bones Soon for new beginnings before life returns home