Coveted.
When half the world was blank on maps,
when people still believed in magic,
sounds became muffled
as underground tappings sprung up
in the hills and holes appeared.
Feet vanished for what seemed like days
then flat mining caps
full of dust, topping faces of loot-happy
smiles shuffled off hazily
clutching large seeds of glimmery gold.
White-knuckled black
fists clutched closely to ribs dead weight
of their findings, bags
of pure alchemy, stones which changed
when kindled in home-made
dirt-hearths, to the hot comfort of flame
keeping away winter\'s cold.
Nuggets lost beneath time became finds
worth more than diamonds
when, in days of old, warmth could save
peasants\' work-worn lives.
Yes, coveted then was possession of coal.