buried treasure

There must be a way to hold on to it...

it was there briefly, shining brightly

or at least I thought so

then it was gone,

covered by a ton of matter.

last Tuesday it was here

insubstantial and fragile

much like delicate butterfly wings

floating on a summer breeze

perched above me for a split second.

Then there was that time last year

when I sat perfectly still

like a lake with no ripples

hoping for it to find me

it passed by without even a glance

I tried digging in the mud

like hunting for buried treasure

scooping piles of dirt over my shoulder

finding only rocks and stones

and a rubber boot left there last spring

It’s not like I can’t live without it

but a small sliver of it would be nice

to hold in my hand

and wrap myself in at night

just to hear it whisper my name to the moon.