I was up in the hills,
hunting for mushrooms.
It was in the Okanogan,
a brushy, sapling covered space,
when I came upon a small,
deserted place. It was surrounded
by trees, some buildings collapsed,
probably a miner, working his claim.
I thought of the stories, of his success
or a failure to find riches
of gold in his mine.
Perhaps the only gold
were the thoughts in his mind.