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
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