THE SENIOR SAMPLER

In the morning, the same arrangement,
A sampler is poised for light and dark,
Half a shift down in the mine,
And half a shift on the surface.
Under coverings of granite,
And walls of slime and water,
The ore could be recoverable,
Yet some things are irretrievable,
And if the meagre light grows dim,
The sampler chooses darker ways…
The artfulness is in seeing the tin –
The sampler develops an eye for this –
Going everywhere in the venture,
Even underneath the sea…
Into old men’s workings;
Outside for a second or two,
Stones are rattling in the breeze,
Nothing is left behind,
Nothing is unseen.