A new division of poetry prompted by Lorraine Wait’s response to “sifting through sand”

Lorraine commented the creativity bubbling throughout our group is inspiring.  The words which flowed through my pen surprised me as much as anyone:

Sifting Through Sand

The lure was magnetic, location sublime.

The effort required would be all mine

A pen in my hand, boots on my feet

The hope to find gold was strong and sweet

Crouching beside the bubbling stream

Scooping up panfuls for a new dream

Swishing the contents around in the pan

Watching the dregs spill out on the land

Sifting through sand, searching for light

Picking up samples, if only they might

Be the treasure I seek

At least for this week.

By Lorraine Wait