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High on a hill, overlooking the full beauty of the lake
and the beginning of the river as it leaves the dam,
making its way through the hills on its way to the ocean,
here where she fished for the beautiful rainbow and the sturdy brown,
.....my true love sleeps.
High on a hill, where the whitetail doe with her fawn,
brouses the grasses and shrubs along the side of the hill;
where lives the red fox and the rabbit; where the
gray squirrel comes out to greet the dawning of a new day,
.....my true love sleeps.
High on a hill, where the freshness of spring gives
way to the long days of summer, and to the renewal of the
lives of nature existing there on the hill; the
young rabbits and squirrels, the fawns and the kits,
all that are born in the spring and mature in the
summer, ready themselves for the coming fall
.....and my true love sleeps.
High on a hill, the days grow shorter, the nights
grow cooler, and the trees begin their annual parade
of colors signalling the passing of summer and the
beginning of fall. All the creatures of the hilltop prepare
themselves for the coming winter, fattening on the berries,
nuts and brouse of the forest. Winter approaches,
.....and my true love sleeps.
High on a hill, the soft falling snow lays a carpet of white
over the barren forest, while the clear waters of the river
continue their way out of the hills, on down through
the lowlands where, meeting the mighty Mississippi, they make
their eternal way on to the ocean, awaiting once again
the coming of spring,
.....and my true love sleeps.
Life goes on, as it must, and it will continue until the
years allotted me have come to an end. Then I will travel
the forest and climb the hill one last time
where an open door awaits, finally to lay at rest there
.....where my true love sleeps.
.....just some thoughts that occurred to me one spring evening
after a visit to the hilltop.
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