The Hummock

The Hummock There is a hill behind the houses rounded and soft I call it a -mother hill- and it welcome you and softly Murmur, how do you do and leave you alone to sit On a boulder and think how incredible life is. If you sit there too long enjoying your sentimentality It wakes you up the rock get cold and the northerly Blow that has a fragrance of Siberia, reindeer and vodka So you walk about to keep warm and see wildflowers Hiding behind stones, but pick them you cannot they Are not yours will wizen in your hands and bring rain Walk softly now the aroma of spring is in the grass. Just behind the hill a hillock grey as October fall, but Out of sight and no trees grow on it scrawny side it The mother hill`s burden which it bears with fortitude