Buried in the sand like so many fountain wishes,
a wealth of coins increases, each its own
nation and mineral currency.

What you cast upon many waters seven, eight times,
returns now to you, double your nothing.
I announce its coming in advance.

Be the madman on the beach with his metal detector.
Collect every coin and jewel you had a feeling was there,
for now is the time to reap the dream, no matter who did the sowing.


March 27, 2014 — Alexandra Hunter
Tags: poetry