Gathering Constellations

Miner at night

Minding the sluice-gate

Looks up:

Lord, there's a mother lode,

If I had a pan big enough

To sift the sky for stars.

Farmer, past dusk,

Unloading bales,

Dreams:

. Lord, there's a field

If ever I saw a field,

If ever Ihad a way to mow it.

Dory-man, riding

The black wave home at dark,

Considers:

Lord, it's a shoal

From here clear to heaven, and

No man has a net to bring it home.