A poem
A poem about something wonderful near us that I am grateful for.
Best to read it aloud, my dear friend.
My Hometown Hill
Every month we climb a nearby hill,
Each time is as fulfilling as the last,
It’s our escape from life’s mundane mill,
Always better than my mind’s forecast.
We strain up the familiar pathways,
Like gods, glimpse the city tiny below,
Our reward is the crown’s serene walkways,
A world apart, of a separate flow.
Schoolboy treks home over hills I recall,
Bravado of youth in innocent times,
When the bus didn’t come, no mobiles to call,
On forested hills with peacocks and limes.
Is it the same place now, in each visit?
Do I change constantly, or does the hill?
Every time I sense a new spirit,
Perhaps it’s a relationship unstill.
Trees, grass, flowers, birds, and fresh air greet me,
No trespasser would get such a welcome,
It revives me in mind, soul, and body,
To stay young, I’ve a regular become.
As the seasons transform the hill, I’m there,
Drapes of mossy green to so many browns,
Changing from wet and lush to dry and bare,
A mirror to my life’s ups and downs.
Monsoon gives way to a touch of the heat,
It’s a brief spring, when the flowers all bloom,
Winter months up high are cool, yet so fleet,
Then comes summer again to threaten doom.
Golden sun and dusty trails,
The summer whispers through parched trees,
They hold on, for before their spirit fails,
The blessed rain returns, the dormant life frees.
Puddles and rivulets, peaks nebulous,
Trees and shrubs invisible in the mist,
Muddy paths make the climbing perilous,
Nothing’s lovelier than my hill rain-kissed.
How long will I have heaven to climb to?
Will humans cut you, carve you, denude you?
Litter and deface, crowd and trample you?
Or will a few active lovers save you?
What will come first, your demise or mine?
Millions of years older than us, my hill,
In a blink, will we ruin such a grand design?
Or treasure you, with wise restraint instil?
If I grow too weak to visit, it’s fine,
As long as I know you are still there whole,
Are someone’s oasis, like you were mine,
In nature’s joy, still playing your role.
Till then, I’ll keep coming to paradise,
Tread lightly, sit oh so quietly still,
Let you be, love you with just my eyes,
For you are perfect, my beckoning hill.
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