Rolling Hills

ROLLING HILLS

 

Oh yea I see those rolling hills

Pickets white and crossbeams gold

In fields I lay in dreams of you

Whilst summer breeze blows over me.


Oh yea I see those rolling hills

and ponds and creeks and daffodils.

White rabbit spurs the cattle’s cry,

in fright they scurry after night.


Outdoor grill my meals and cook

my coffee in the sun or in the rain

and drink from tin cups cleansed
in stream flows through the place.


Oh yea be there rolling hills

not in my dreams but in the now

when comes the morn I wake in scent
of meadow grasses lime and gold.


Oh yea come get me rolling hills

now, not later in my years whilst

still I live and breathe His gifts,
fulfill me now and breathe fresh life.


Oh yea you rolling hills

I beg you find me while my lust

yet rages, burns within me, will not quiet ‘til

the day your hilltop hammock sways me free.

 

14 Replies to “Rolling Hills”

  1. I enjoyed the way you personalized the rolling hills and addressed them like a friend or lover. The repetition creates a nice musical effect, accentuating your passion and love of nature and the zest for life, while you have the energy.

  2. ah you are singing my song…i lived outdoors one year…right after college…adn i will say waking up outside is my fav place…and drinking coffee off the fire out of one of those tin cups…best i ever had…

  3. I can equate allot of what you write to feelings we had as children. Everyday was a new adventure, carefree and beautiful (mostly). Your poem takes me back to lying in the grass after it was freshly mowed and searching for images in the clouds – picking dandelions and taking them home to put in a glass of water to preserve the sweet little yellow flower. I feel all of this and I get a sense of innocence from your poem. Maybe in our youth we have already experienced the “Rolling Hills”.

  4. Jeff, I was transported by the lush imagery of this poem to a place where we all imagine living the idyllic life, not a solitary one, but one that is shared.

    I enjoyed the repetition, of Oh Yea, at the beginning of each stanza, a soothing transition to each flowing but separate thought.

    “Oh yea I see those rolling hills
    Pickets white and crossbeams gold
    In fields I lay in dreams of you
    Whilst summer breeze blows over me”

    There was a prayer like quality to it in stanza 5 which appealled to me.
    Then, the last stanza was truly my favorite, living one’s life to the full.

    “Oh yea you rolling hills
    I beg you find me while my lust
    yet rages, burns within me, will not quiet ‘til
    the day your hilltop hammock sways me free.”

    Lovely.
    ~M

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