Two feet standing on the hill.
A road zigzagging its way
up to a destination, a hopeful
morning smiling to all greens
after a week of rain.
Well, you got the whole day-
greens everywhere invite you to them.

Meanwhile, on my desk, I have looked
at the news today: things that
I don’t want to read,
deaths that I don’t wish to anyone.
Someone somewhere is closing the
window of his soul.
And who does care, who does scold
if you wander away from whoever you are,
to look for your soul on the other
side of the hill, outside your boxed hopes?


23 responses to “Hillside”

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