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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



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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