Frozen Quartz:It's Harder Poem by Roger Gerald Hicks

'bout ten times harder and no more brittle.
Quartz, with a mind, knows a man's cold, hungry.
Delights in torment.

Certainly more gold there under her.
More'n the slight color gleaming
in the diggings.

Rubs frozen hands against mud
incrusted Levis slept in weeks.
Would he ever learn?

Freezing each night wolves loud, plenty loud.
The lean-to some help; wolves abay 'fraid of fire.

Mornings bad as evenings.Can't read.Can't think.
Sometimes he talked to the gutsgrumbling.
Like they was old friends like he knowed 'em
better'n anyone.

Bad winter; long too!
Ran out the dynamite...couldn't 'member when.
Nothing for it -

Pound more holes in quart. Hammer drill,
turn it.Hit again.Flashing orange sparks.
Only way to warmth less'n he lay front
the fire; burn it all, that wood, afore spring.

He eyes the cords once a day, like watching
the calendar he lacks.Some wood gone nightly.
Thinks: "Maybe them damn wolves freeze me
into the open- stealing logs in those starving jaws.

Wolves smart as quartz.
Work every day.Thoughts 'bout her every minute.
Quartz. Quartz. Quartz.
Quartz eating
him 'fore the wolves- relentlessly.