Of cobbles and troubles
And scant hunks of jade
I'll tell you a tale
Of the fortunes I've made
For the north wind is blowin'
And the gravel is froze
The river sweeps by
Carrying ice chunks and floes
I launch in a backwater
Gentle and smooth
Dip in me oars
Now I'm starting to move
Thinking mainly of treasure
Gemstones of worth
Pulling steady and gaining
My raft surges forth
Out into the current
Riding waves and white foam
Like a turd at a flush fest
I struggles and rows
Now there's doubters and pouters
And pundits galore
Who'll state with conviction
I'll not reach that far shore
But I gets to my island
Making fast to a rock
And I pause for a moment
To catch breath and take stock
I've got hours of daylight
Fields of cobbles past sight
Woollen raiment and wrap
'Gainst the cold north wind bite
So I sets me a cairn
Takes up shovel and pack
And I strides to a landmark
Where at I turns back
Now you may wonder what moves me
To walk back and forth
Through the dregs of an ice age
On a steady straight course
Where there's cobbles and shingles
And boulders and grains
And the most of them mingles
With fish bones and remains
There's serpentine plenty
Mixed with granite and quartz
Magnesite tremolite
And strange other sorts
Peridot and garnet
In fire that was made
But the object that lures me
Is that rare hunk of jade
Long ago, before time
In the womb of the earth
Where the rocks were all melted
And flowed freely forth
Some formed threads like asbestos
Others cooled like glass
When the glass filled the threads
To form a fibrous mass
A jade rill was born
With orogenous thrust
And awaked to the sunshine
At earths outer crust
Then came the ice
In great rivers that flowed
Carved chasms through crags
Dragged with them a load
Heaps of rock and gemstone
And gravel and gold
Cast colossal terrains
In a mountainous mold
The ice melted in torrents
Scoured canyons in mud
Leaving litters of lithe
In the wake of the flood
The hunters that came
In the absence of ice
Made their tools of stone
Using crafty device
They found one above all
That could shape and endure
And Jade is the one
I now seek to secure
So I watch pretty careful
As I make my way long
Turning rocks with my shovel
Thinking Words to a poem
Then my attention is caught
Through the corner of my eye
By a rock that looks different
From the others nearby
I moves close for a look
I see fracture and form
Lustre and cleavage
And polish and more
So I brush off the silt
And I rolls it around
I lifts it up lightly
And taps it for sound
The weight is just right
Color a green shade
I draws a great breath
And I hollers it's Jade!
Now older boulders
Than me and you
Has rowed up this river
A time or two
And some come lately
To lookie loo
With their tacky attire
And tasteless tattoos
But Jade waits for none
On its way to the sea
Only vigil will find it
Take care, attend thee
Live large, act small
Keep your mind on the chore
Then Jade will find you
And elude you no more
PMD 04/02/04
The woodlands of British Columbia have been my home for work and play since 1970. Jade hunting is a hoby, and my poem tells you how to discover your own gemstone treasure. To find more Poems about rural B.C. visit my website http://www.douglasfirdoors.com/poems_style/jadehunter.htm