This, he said, giving the hickory leaf <br />to me. Because I am poor. <br />And he lifted my hand to his lips, <br />kissed the fingers that might have worn <br />gold rings if he had inherited <br /> <br />bottomland, not this <br />impossible rock where the eagles soared <br />after the long rains were over. He stood <br />in the wet grass, his open hands empty, <br />his pockets turned inside out. <br /> <br />Queen of the Meadow, he teased me <br />and bowed like a gentleman. <br />I licked the diamonds off the green <br />tongue of the leaf, wanting only <br />that he fill his hands with my hair.<br /><br />Kathryn Stripling Byer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/diamonds-2/
