Near shore’s edge a log gleams
With what seems polished, jade stones, like
A brooch glistening on a blue-draped breast
The dazzled hiker halts
Breath caught, muscles taut
—too late!
The log rocks, spilling living gems
That slip silently into the silken folds
Of a liquid stronghold
With no more trace of the treasure
Than rings that ripple and radiate
Like the waves of remembered pleasure
Poem by CNC volunteer Linda W. & photo by CNC volunteer Sue P.
