A train of clouds
carried the white smoke
across a summer
that lifted me to
greater and greater blues
until, when I had fallen
for the uncut emerald.

So small it might have broken,
and been swept, wind-blown,
into the arms of glaciers-
all the living called me
from their canyons,
and I, fully exposed
to love, called back.

WILFRED JOHN

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/for-the-uncut-emerald/