A Hillside Bare
New England November, no longer prey
Tourists surrendered overrun by the gray
The leaves were lovely and lifted the air
But there’s something of comfort in a hillside bare
The river’s less wild, an easier ambience
Its job for awhile was posing for transients
Now it just carries water, no putting on airs
Through valleys formed by hillsides bare
First time in a month, I visit my church
I know everyone, every maple and birch
Alive and free, my breath in the air
Sanctuary cemetery, hillside bare
My mother, father here long ago borne
They never went farther from where they were born
And nearby a grave and I kneel with a prayer
My only love lay on a hillside bare
A boy went to war, he thought it his time
Celebrated by scores, champagne and wine
He’d reminisce but not of the flair
But of a winter’s kiss on a hillside bare
I have known brilliance, smoke and flash
But oh the stillness of an uncloaked ash
Its winter beyond us, it waits for us there
The light upon us a hillside bare
Throughout November I am writing a poem a day in an effort to raise money for The Center for New Americans, an organization that is located in Western Massachusetts and does great work in acclimating our new citizens to their new homes.
You may help by going here.
If you appreciate my efforts and my work please share.
Also, most of you know I am moving to Oregon at the end of the year. Before I leave I will bedoing two shows. Both will be in Amherst at the NACUL Center at 7:00 on November 30 and December 7. Proceeds will benefit The Center for New Americans.