We measure our wealth in gold—
Springtime, at home, if there’s been rain at the right time, “Desert Gold” in bloom, like area rugs around creosote bushes, hallway runners beside the highway.
Late summer, in farming country, furrowed hay fields
From Alberta through British Columbia and the Yukon, aspens, sometimes lining the road like Dorothy’s yellow brick road to the Emerald City.
And as we camp at Lake LaBerge, showers of gold leaf floating in the open doors of our van, decorating our picnic table, garnishing our dinner.