Beryl (Poem)

{This poem was written as Hurricane Beryl had just attained Category 1 status.  I am indebted to a YouTube video by Steve Moriarty at MoreGems.com

which explained various properties of beryls.  All errors are my own.}

 

They say that you are not a threat.

They say that you are small.

It’s true, you’re not developed yet:

You’ve hardly grown at all.

 

And yet, you are the strongest and

The easternmost of blights

To plague July.  And that is why

I’ve got you in my sights.

 

They named you for a jewel,

Crystallized in hexagons,

A group of gems called Beryl,

Grown like columns inside stones.

 

The Emerald is widely known,

For cities, and for gems.

A windy storm blew Toto there,

And Dottie, both of them.

 

The Morganite is brownish-red.

T’would soothe a banker’s soul,

But Bixbite’s red is more purebred,

For those with pockets full

 

Of dollar bills.  Green Beryl

Is a muted Emerald’s brother.

A sunny, ochre-y, merry gem,

Heliodore’s another.

 

But clearly, the most potent gem,

In March you may have seen:

The bluish, watery, clear birthstone,

The cool aquamarine.

 

Perhaps this is the budget-wreck

You strive most to be like.

You’ve water—check. And ocean—check.

You’re cold and hard as ice,

 

And small, like all the gems I’ve seen,

Tight-packed, not yet unfurled,

Round brilliant cut, part blue, part green,

Like sky and sea en-swirled.

 

You tiny, tiny hurricane,

Cut neat, in tropics mounted!

I hope the price

Of Paradise

Might, someday, be discounted.

 

 

Copyright 2018 Andrea LeDew