panning for gold

on your knees
you kneel
by the stream
that rolls
down
the mountain.
your hands
hold the pan
as it sifts
what comes.
you grow
old on
the mountain
with
only flecks
of gold
to show for
your patience.
the big nugget
never comes.
just like they
told you,
when you were
cheerful,
when you
were young.