Gold Flakes

Fragments of gold-flake swirl among gravel
in a placer-mine pan or a soggy sombrero
washed down by water from silver Sierras,
who knew that gold could grow out of snow?

Flickers of gold on the flanks of a sturgeon
trace a bright track over cold granite cobbles.
Wilderness waters, sunless but sparkling
who knew that stone could turn into gold?

Flashes of sun in the gravel-grey cloud cover
feathers of light in the dark wings of thunder
mark the beginning of ending of bitterness
the day that the snow in my heart turns to gold.