She pauses,
momentarily –
at the top of the hill,
not really knowing why.
It’s as though something is calling her, but
there’s nothing there.
Just a view of the meadow below,
and the gentle waving
of the grass
in the breeze.
And nothing more than this.
.
But isn’t that enough?
It would be for me.
I bet for you too.
Nice poem.
-Thirst
I like your capturing of a tiny moment in time and a view not fully described but still complete–like a freeze frame. Reminds me of the Maxfield Parish painting Ecstacy–the girl standing on the edge of a cliff, wind blowing her dress and hair.
Thanks Thirst.
Thanks Butterfly.
“Ecstacy”
Oh, how cool that you got a picture of that painting.
Is it me or does anyone else faintly hear Julie Andrews singing: “The hills are alive with the sound of music” while reading this poem? Rainey, that was not meant as a negative criticism of this piece, b/c I love its simple sentiment.
well done,
N.
This poem reminds me of a view afternoons I’ve had just watching grass. I like this poem 'cause most people can relate to it.
Now that you mention it, yeah, it does remind me of that.
groovy poem dood.