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Release the shelter of bare feet,
     rhinestones on big toes sparkle.
The tentacle-shine of sunwheat
     on the scrapyard-swig of river.

Like a sunflower, the mudlark
     shuts her eyes, complexion
surrenders to the sun’s spark
     as sighs rush about cool ankles.

This lackadaisical leisure lost
     to the whimsical call of wings.
Her playful ponderings defrost —
     she ponytails long cinnamon hair.

Wonders what the silt will give up
     today, muscles prepare for work out.
Long hours linger — she’s no buttercup.
     The slow rustle of water into the pan.

The seersucker-mud like a baby’s first
     shoe — she cannot wriggle out of them
and for this Eurekan-tub she thirsts.
     A simmering giggle at her search.

Tinkering with the gold dish —
     shuffling treasures in the round.
Precious stones ticklish,
     the swishing sound resplendent.

Her ancestors with wagons came,
     ready to obtain riches and lavish land,
in the cold-hearted chamber untame,
     traded ditches and shovels for pans.

Their memories roar in loss of their eyes
     in the tundra of time. What’s lost in mystery,
she hopes to find — their trinket goodbyes.
     What was the cost, for it was not her life.

Perhaps a broach of a great-great aunt —
     oh what pleasurable mint but repetition
of weeping, for surely the ghost would haunt
     but it would be a worthwhile footprint.

Her plum-warm cheeks enjoy the dive
     and swirl of her memory-seeking sojourn.
Her golden irises and vibrating fists survive
     peeking into the melodic riverbed’s thoughts.

Her tail swings with ebb and flow of seconds,
     like a cuckoo clock with precise repetition.
Surprised, the splash of a trout beckons —
     his stock contained in this friendly wave.

Up and down all day securing finds of ugly
     nails and twine, but then she finds a button.
A payday! It’s small and torn but lovely.
     Eureka! a Victorian star, a sign of life.

3/30/2020
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