The miner’s exhales adorned

The miner’s exhales adorned the air, As if mist had been woven into his breath since birth.
Years upon years of tunneling— The employer had time and again measured The gold’s purity against a lifetime of unequal exile.
Seeing the rails, The tremor of excitement at completion Shook even his voice.
This was the fifth mine that had defeated him. He had never considered that the number of waiting mines Was endless— That each beginning bore the weight of a first.
The smoke, too, Vanished like the rails, Without memory.
He put on his shoes, And walked away.