Gold in the Waters

Number 4

The Wanlockhead burn speaks in tongues,
ancient Scots mixing with mineral voices
as I wade knee-deep in the historic flow.
My pan dips and swirls, practiced motions
learned from generations of hopeful hands.

Lead mine spoils edge the water,
gray witnesses to centuries of searching.
The highest village in Scotland watches
from its huddle of weathered stones,
while I sift through time itself.