beyond beyond

by Peter Humphreys

on the hill
beyond the hill
beyond the hill
I'm on
the snow
is slowly making
like a monk's tonsure

beyond the hill
and on my hill
and bees still thrive
I walk in the blinding sun
of autumn
low in the sky

I rittle-rattle
the myriad leaves
and cinkers
no longer clonking

like me
I feel the coming winter too
not the first
not last

but when the time is come
scatter my dust
upon the hill
before the hill
before the snowy hill

may some end
on the whiskers of a busy busy squirrel
or at the base of a wind blasted
silver birch
like my hair used to be

but above all
may it fly
above the hill
beyond the hill
from my hill
out out out
to who knows
the joy of every where


Posted on 10/11/2021
Copyright © 2024 Peter Humphreys

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