Gold

Oh, walk me down an ancient path
You charted when the stars were young.
The stones and dust I pick my way among,
The briars that tear my arm and calf,
Have not discouragement enough to slow my way,
When gems and stones of gold betray the path
To be so old, so old, so old.
God! my heart has never failed to leap
When spotting gems and stones upon the road.
My feet, as tiredness flees, begin to dance
And trip a light quick-step
Toward the mother lode.
I know these roads and trails that every day
Take prospectors through barren lands,
Through bayous damp, and desert heat and cold,
While every day new trails are struck,
And every day a tourist stuck
In mud, or heat, or cold,
But I can smell the old,
And lead my self along the pathway stones.

Copyright 2006 by M. David Orr