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Poetry: “Waking hill”

A spring themed poem, hopefully reflecting what you see outside your window though it is only early April.

***~***~***~***

Waking hill

 

Dull, brown, grassy hill

Bending lazily upwards

Stretching out beside the road

For many months but a place

Where dogs came to shit

And children perilously

Rode their sleds

Down

 

But with the piercing spring sunshine

Working on the winter detritus

Of that hill

Begins a transformation

An awakening

Brown tones fading into green

And among those fragile strands

Bulbs sprout forth

With fleshy leaves revealing

Golden, orange crocus

***

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