​An ear that doubled, ninety-seven's prize,
A whispered echo for watchful eyes.
A lobe that split, a tiny clone,
A secret only few have known.
I held my breath and looked so near,
To find that treasure, quell the fear.
​And then the fields of wheat so fine,
That '22, a missing sign.
No "D" for Denver, smooth and plain,
A priceless loss, a numismatic gain.
You traveled far, a humble guest,
Putting my searching to the test.
​But now the rolls are nearly done,
Your copper journey's almost run.
No more the thrill, the hopeful gleam,
To find a treasure in the stream.
A pocket's weight, a wish's throw,
A piece of us, you have to go.
​The jar that filled with passing years,
Now holds my hopes and silent tears.
Each copper face, a memory sweet,
Of simple joys and tired feet.
From countless hunts, a truth I see,
You meant much more than one small "c"
​So fare thee well, dear copper friend,
Our treasured hunts must reach an end.
The loupe is dimmed, the light is low,
A gentle, sad, and quiet blow.
But in my heart, you'll always be,
A piece of humble history.
​Oh, thank you, thank you, endless nights of joy!
For every roll, a hopeful, eager boy!
For every find, a shout, a happy tear,
That banished doubt and vanquished every fear!
For calloused thumbs and eyes that strained to see,
You gave the greatest treasure back to me!
A universe within a copper sea,
An explosion of pure, unbridled, grateful glee!!

MICHAEL  POWERS
"STYXX ON FIRE "