dross

like a prospector
I return again
to the river bank

with battered and dented
soul
raked over too many coals

with battered and dented
pie tin
poked with holes

with battered and dented
knees
that kneel in the gravel

the rocks shift and sift
and I strain and struggle
panning and picking
through the dross

weary eyes/weary heart
scanning searching
sluicing dredging
grasping and greedy
for a tiny gleam of golden
a shimmer of shine
a nugget unalloyed
legitimate

hoping with each swirl
as water slides over my hands
not to be heartbroken
foiled and felled
taken in
by the counterfeit
false shine
of fool's gold
yet again