Where They Dug For Gold

a Rondine There are lessons here, in the Gold Rush mine – a hazard. Might a child fall down the pit? not in search of gold or the bad airs that sit in shut-off places, quartz vein crystal-shine too dim to show a way. These walls confine the lungs, they say, the heart. But this is it: there are lessons here we need to learn, even the child of nine about to inherit, to somehow fit onto his earth, right the old wrongs, remit our debts; to see the intricate design. There are lessons here.