Their Day’s Work Is Done

 On Cripple Creek’s streets,
donkeys, their coats the color 
of old photographs, carry the weight of myth 
as they step through layers of time.

They are the town's memory, a living echo 
of a time when men gambled against the mountains
in their search for veins of gold.

The donkeys haul no gold ore now
as they drift past the racket of casinos
and dreams wagered by tourists.

A child reaches out, the donkey lowers its head
and accepts the gentle hand. Their ears are long 
and soft, eyes dark and deep. They are treated 
as novelties rather than living relics of the gold rush.

When night falls, their day's work is done. 
In a dark and unbounded sky, 
a thin moon hangs in the cool night,
and scattered stars begin to gleam like ore 
over the mining camp.

One Thursday Afternoon

The Cripple Creek Mining District, Colorado, 1891

The bustling gold camp roared
as the sun began to rise 
and the clinking of picks 
striking rocks filled the air. 

The prospector, 
fueled by determination, 
placed his entire fortune on the line
as his days unfolded 
in an uncertain way.

Anticipation hung heavy, 
mingling with the scent 
of sweat and dust.
He bet it all 
for a chance 
at gold.

Tomorrow would tell the tale,
carrying with it the promise 
of either a hope fulfilled 
or a crushing disappointment
of this prospector’s dreams 
that floated in the air.

—By Steven Wade Veatch

A prospector at work. This AI image was created
by the author with the assistance of MS Designer.

Dust and Dreams: The Rocky Road to Riches

By Steven Wade Veatch
 
They journeyed over rough roads
by horse, mule, and wagon
through meadows of grass freckled
with summer blossoms,
then through thick pine stands
and past toppled trees tilted at odd angles
to the gold mines.
 
Today, along the abandoned
roadbeds are fragments of history:
rocks fallen from ore wagons,
a blacksmith’s mule shoe,
a busted whiskey bottle,
all evidence of shattered dreams.
 
Through the foggy mist among the trees,
I thought I saw a spectral teamster
take his reins and smile
as his wagon jolted along a bumpy road
and disappeared into Colorado’s past.

Roadway under Castle Rock.
Boulder County, Colorado.
Photo date 1873
by W. H. Jackson
(jwh01420).
Credit: U.S.G.S. 

 
 

Brothers

By Steven Wade Veatch

The photo you left 
from gold rush days 
turned up today. 

It lasted over a century.
I would say go 
to Cripple Creek,
grab some gold.
Have some fun—
ride a burro, 
and look down 
the winding trail, 
to a time that didn’t 
last long enough.

Photograph courtesy of the Cripple Creek District Museum.