Awaken from slumber to sunshine on a dreamy hillside.
A never ending daydream world.
Aware but not quite so,
As the shadows dance with the clouds.
Shadows rolling over and down.
Over fields of green and gold.
Like sitting on the bottom of a stream
As salmon swim above.
To blink and rub the eyes
Causes the shadows to slow to a crawl,
And hold in the lee
On a warm summer day.
Sitting on the hillside.
Looking out over a sea of undulations
Stretching to the horizon.
Ever on and beyond and on.
Large is the expanse
As the waters that divide.
Wheat and grass and wheat
Broken by rivulets and hedgerows,
And brambles and thickets,
And barns and white spired churches
That call of home and heaven.
The hills hold the clouds above them.
Deep, still blue with sun.
Soft and warm as a caress.
With gravity weighing heavy,
As the grass calls and invites
And envelopes and knows.
Greens yield to the growing golds.
Clouds thicken and coat.
Golds turn to grays in the stillness.
Calm as a hunter’s gaze.
Pointed as the lab.
Orange and black against the haze
Search for pheasant rainbows in the reeds
As hills and sky combine.
Sleetings follow the heating of the hearth.
Cast iron among the coals to guard against.
Oil and game sizzle,
And the room note fills.
Warm as on the summer hillsides,
As the frost seeps under the door.
Outside the hills now covered
As a soft white wool blanket.
They sleep as winter’s moonlight drives
The shadows of night in the lee,
Holding against the gales and drifts.
Pistoned beasts skate over rivers of ice.
Stretching to the horizon
And around the next bend.
Speeding through the night.
Forever on like the hills that haunt.
Endless flight with no worry to slide,
As the paths of geese low to the water
Awaken on the hillside
Knowing that the snows have receded,
But in the back of the mind
Like a day long ago.
The noontime grass has returned
With greens as bright as they can
And darken in the lee.
The salmon have returned
To swim above,
Upstream towards the setting sun
As they carry you along.
Shadows rolling over and down.
Over fields of green and gold.
Like sitting on the bottom of a stream
As salmon swim above.
To blink and rub the eyes
Causes the shadows to slow to a crawl,
And hold in the lee
On a warm summer day.
Sitting on the hillside.
Looking out over a sea of undulations
Stretching to the horizon.
Ever on and beyond and on.
Large is the expanse
As the waters that divide.
Wheat and grass and wheat
Broken by rivulets and hedgerows,
And brambles and thickets,
And barns and white spired churches
That call of home and heaven.
The hills hold the clouds above them.
Deep, still blue with sun.
Soft and warm as a caress.
With gravity weighing heavy,
As the grass calls and invites
And envelopes and knows.
Greens yield to the growing golds.
Clouds thicken and coat.
Golds turn to grays in the stillness.
Calm as a hunter’s gaze.
Pointed as the lab.
Orange and black against the haze
Search for pheasant rainbows in the reeds
As hills and sky combine.
Sleetings follow the heating of the hearth.
Cast iron among the coals to guard against.
Oil and game sizzle,
And the room note fills.
Warm as on the summer hillsides,
As the frost seeps under the door.
Outside the hills now covered
As a soft white wool blanket.
They sleep as winter’s moonlight drives
The shadows of night in the lee,
Holding against the gales and drifts.
Pistoned beasts skate over rivers of ice.
Stretching to the horizon
And around the next bend.
Speeding through the night.
Forever on like the hills that haunt.
Endless flight with no worry to slide,
As the paths of geese low to the water
Awaken on the hillside
Knowing that the snows have receded,
But in the back of the mind
Like a day long ago.
The noontime grass has returned
With greens as bright as they can
And darken in the lee.
The salmon have returned
To swim above,
Upstream towards the setting sun
As they carry you along.
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