The Jewel

The sun was high at noon,
clouds drooped above,
welcome shade beneath
the crosier ferns
where soft earth beside a stream
green with moss gave pillow for my head
a mound as soft as eider down
triangle cushion, three a magic number.
caught me unawares half dreamed
but did not sleep.
There was time enough to gaze
at the drooping clouds.
But sleep would not wait,
there was a stirring in the earth
tremors in my ear.
I searched the mossy mound
dug deep, drew back the green
not knowing what to find,
the ground gave up its secret
the like of which I had not seen
wrapped in a peaty bed.
I had no jewel box
to lock away this gift
did not want to lose it
took it in my mouth,
sucked the tender white,
sweeter than I ever saw
a tear upon my cheek,
woke to the evening shower
my pocket empty in the noon high sun.