it gleams
it glows
and refracts light
into rainbows
on the shadowed walls
flickering with the last fire
of this winter

this faceted crystal
lives in the amber lights
speaking of it's years underground
of the smell of peat and other organic matter
it talks of presing and pressure,
of waiting, of dormancy
of silence and solitude
of tetonic shifts, and little landslips

of the sound of pick and axe
and the rumble of machinery
the gabble of voices, the greed of man

it talks of admiration followed by
cleaving and faceting and grinding
it speaks of currencies

it speaks of love, of exicitement
and trepidation, of yearning
and of acceptance and joy

it tells of years of happiness
of washing up and of being held
in quiet embrace, it tells of nights
just like this,  sitting in front of the fire
basking in it's glow, making rainbows
on shadowed walls