Our white cottage, hung in green half-moons,
sits on the outskirts, where forests begin
and sunshine gilds Mockingbird Hill.

Spring awakes in shade-tree blossoms
as flowers spill from a water-pitcher,
and ruby-throats dip their sugar beaks.

Summer morning of dark bread, berry jam,
and sassafras served in a yellow nook.
Evening after the show, a country lane stroll
afloat in violets from your simple print.

Autumn rain drips through the magnolias,
milky warm mugs, daydream seascapes,
on the porch with a book and a breeze.

Winter winds whistle the gap round the door,
but our bellies glow warm, our lips plump and
purple with burgundy, deep beneath a patch quilt
in our white cottage, hung with green half-moons.

03/22/2005

Author's Note: The following lines of “Fever Dream,” by Iron & Wine, inspired this poem.

I want your flowers like babies want God’s love
Or maybe as sure as tomorrow will come...

Posted on 03/23/2005
Copyright © 2026 David Hill