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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
I'm going to post this before I decide I don't like it. Something on the lighter side...


I live on a hill, among the tall grass,
Where birds each morning fill the air with songs,
And where the wind blows, only it knows,
And carries the songs along with it.

In the woods the fox hears the sounds of the birds,
As it catches a mouse who cries as he’s pounced,
And where the wind blows, only it knows,
And carries the cries along with it.

The cries carry out to the bank of a river,
Where petals from dogwoods drop onto the water,
And where the river flows, only it knows,
And carries the petals along with it.

As the petals float by, the townspeople wake,
To church bells tolling in the morning air,
And although the wind blows past river and lake,
Past the trees in the woods and the foxes lair,
In my house on the hill, minding my fear,
I, in my house, do not hear.

Alone on my hill, among the tall grass,
I look with a sigh to the far horizon,
And where the wind blows, only it knows,
And carries my sigh along with it.
 
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