Batholith Poem by C Richard Miles

Endungeoned deep beneath the gritstone countryside,
The batholith, a vast concretion, bides its time.
Though much less ancient than age-hardened neighbours
It endures and means to establish firmer roots
And grows its polychromatic crystal tendrils tight
Enmeshing vice-like sloth-slow into solid stone.
It sleeps, perhaps a million millennia before some miner
Seeking to discover rich metal or fine gems
Unearths its sheer magnificence and splendour.
Until then, the massive rock rests quite contentedly
Yet underneath a sneaky supercilious streak seethes
For it conceals that diamond of untold worth in its depths
Hid close within its slumbering heart which it intends
To hold as long as all eternity, a precious treasure for itself