LONGING ON A QUIET HILL

Purple flowers fall on November grass.
Gently a quiet breeze combs through the forested land
For a while birds stop to twitter, silence occupy the pass
The quietude is deep and profound
Behind a low flying cloud, the riotous rainbows is beautiful
Look, look the winding rivers are both clear and full
Old flowers fall from myriad branches to perfume my gown
Withered leaves crush under my foot to make both noise and music
Strolling care freely, nor distress nor grief can weigh my heart down
The picturesque view from a great rock suddenly make me home sick

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17 thoughts on “LONGING ON A QUIET HILL

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