hudson poem

These hills here Differ, from those of home     And blue in their rolling Stretch behind the river like a     Napping man Mild and solid, yet terribly unsmooth     While the green of The banks bubble heartily     With life, these trees the Strong, warm arms of mother     Protecting, undying, and warming The long body of the man     As he lays, she cycles, Each spring a new dress, each summer     In love, they ripen and release hundreds Of sounds     The warm whisper of winds, the crickets Rhythmic thumping, and the rains’ honest cry     In balance, the sun Is willing to fall 6/11/00 © on Jul 03 2001 05:44 AM PST   0 • 13