Sitting at the foot of the hill
Just this day,
I want to dissolve into
The endless grey of the sky,
I want to run like sap can
Under rivers of tree bark,
I want to tuck myself inside the
Feathered, waving tail of a squirrel.
Just this day,
I want to follow the wind
On its ways
Round the rocks and
Among grains of sand,
Slip through tree branches
And ruffle a bird's wing.
Just this day,
I want to sit still inside the hill,
Looking out over the valley
And see, in hill-time,
What the hill sees.
I wonder if the hill
Sees the rest of us
As we see smaller creatures—
In higher-speed motion
And with a shorter life span—
Clouds breaking against it
Like waves on a shore,
Small and inconsequential
Human-made structures
Rising up and breaking down,
Cars like tiny insects moving quickly
Down their paths.
Just this day,
I'd like to know what the hill knows
And learn its gathering wisdom.
posted by MB at 12:37 PM
13 Comments:
"Rising up and breaking down"
I think you already know what the hill knows.
Much the way I feel when out-of-doors or traveling.
I agree :)
The fluidity of your poetry is always refreshing. I can never see how you could do much revision. The meditative quality of how we are each other, how we are the landscape, is not just beautiful but makes us, as readers, feel what you're feeling. In ancient Ireland, Siddhe were small hills like mounds, like breasts probably, and considered places of plenty, and worshipped.
yes... fluid and transforming. i love how you've captured that odd feeling when time, motion, perspective and scale shift a little and the deeper essence of things appear. nice zen allusions. thank you- snowsparkle
I like the rhythm of this, the rising intensity until you reach union with your subject.
Oh I miss your poems when there isn't one for a few days - what a privilege they are! The flowing quality is one of the things that always affects me very much too. So simple and flowing and 'yes, yes, that's exactly what it looks like/how it makes me feel'. Wonderful.
Mermaid, I may not know at all what the hill knows: things may not be at all the way they seem, most specifically regarding the hill!
Moira, I was trying to put into words a sense I get frequently.
Brenda, thanks. The revisions are definitely there to be made — paring down, choosing only what's essential to the arrow of the poem, perhaps repositioning a part... but they won't be made here. Thanks for your lovely comment.
Snowsparkle, "odd" is perhaps a good word to describe it, in the sense that it is hard to define, but the feeling is a familiar one for me.
Patry, I appreciate the specificity of your comment. Rhythm and arc are important to me in a poem. They add to the sense of direction and journey.
Jean, your words mean a lot to me today. Thank you.
Karen, thanks for coming along.
Hi--I just found your blog--via Becca and Bella's links. I'm new to blogging, and began on January 1st to keep myself writing on a consistent basis without judgment.
I love the "just this day" poem, especially the last stanza:
"I'd like to know what the hill knows..." Me too.
My work is prose but I'm tring to move through this winter season with a willingness to learn from the darkness. I'll be back to see what you write in the future. My blog is: Rounding 60. Regards, M.C.
just beautiful.
a mantra, a prayer, a reminder, a blessing.
thank you, mb.
MC, welcome! Thanks for your comment and congratulations on starting your blog. I'll come check it out.
Maya, thank you for visiting and leaving your kind words. I'm pleased you enjoyed the poem. I know I've enjoyed a number of yours.
your writing flows. unspoiled.
loved this poem - and i can't imagine wishing for anything more, for just one day.
thanks!
Anne, thank you. I'm pleased you enjoyed it. I often find myself wishing I could travel in other modes, just temporarily.
This is so lovely it's like a chocolate box each verse has a different centre
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