Coveted.
When half the world was blank on maps
and people believed in magic,
sounds became muffled as tappings
under the soil sprung up
while in the hills big holes appeared.
Folk vanished for what seemed like days
then flat mining caps
full of loot-happy dust, topping faces
of smiles shuffled off hazily
clutching large lumps of silvery seeds.
White-knuckled black fists clutched close
to ribs the dead weight
of their findings, bags of pure alchemy,
stones which changed when
kindled in home-made places of fire.
Dirt-hearths rose to unknown hot comfort
with flame keeping cold away,
gems lost beneath time became nuggets
worth more than diamonds
and in days of old saved work-worn lives.
Yes coveted then was possession of coal.