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The Silent Hills

by Kate Demeree

 

The hills are quiet now
Brown is the grass
Cut short in the summer sun
No pale green shoots springing to life
Eager to grow beyond the safety of earth
The wind blows chill icy drafts
Between bark thickened trunks
Of trees turned russet and gold
Who vigilantly reach carrying
Sparse arms to an unknown
Yet sensed destination
Just beyond their tips

Bare are the branches
Of birds nesting
No disturbing calls
For a mate
Sound through the wood
They like the crunch
Of my lovers boots
Are shadows
Left long ago
Yet I wrap in my woolen skirt
Snuggle in my hood
And haunt the hill once more


 

09/05/2003

Posted on 09/05/2003
Copyright © 2021 Kate Demeree

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Jason Wardell on 09/05/03 at 09:27 PM

Outstanding imagery throughout this solemn look into the past. Great job, it's a wonderful read! :)

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 09/05/03 at 10:43 PM

Excellent poem to usher in the coming Fall. Love how this creeped under my skin, and will no doubt remain there till Winter.

Posted by David R Spellman on 09/07/03 at 02:29 PM

Kind of eerie and somber, but an excellent prelude to the coming season. Makes me want to get out to traipse among those hills to see the wonderful scene you depict.

Posted by JD Clay on 09/08/03 at 12:29 PM

I love the movement that sets the tone throughout this autumnal piece, and the stark ending to leave the reader with a little something extra to think about. Nice bit of writing, Kate. Peace...

Posted by Brian Francis on 09/08/03 at 07:09 PM

Yes this is a timely and beautiful piece. Thanx --bf

Posted by Quinlan L Gibson on 09/09/03 at 12:57 PM

oh, this is beautifully sad, i want to wrap myself in it.

Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 09/09/03 at 01:12 PM

eyes delight in your words which are music to anyone who can hear, and silently as fawn whisks back through forest to steal.

Posted by Max Bouillet on 09/10/03 at 06:44 PM

The imagery that falls from a world view to a personal view is quite impeccable. A wonderful journey through autumn (both the season and the one that is in the heart)

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